Datasets:

jerryjalapeno

/

jsonlsingle2

like 0

"Momma, I'm sorry. I've been meaning to call you this week. I've been so busy with work and everything. I know what, I need my nails and feet done ASAP, and I I mean, I know you don't ever get yours done, so let's go tomorrow night. I'll pick you up after work. No backing out either girl." Natasha told her mother, trying to multitask with signing off some documents too. She was sitting at work and the office was busy today. Along with her mother calling and complaining unannounced, a whole new case opening up consisting of a multi-million dollar company suing another multi-million dollar company with complainants that their choices for storing their bio-hazardous waste is interfering with their product production and asking for over 4 in differences is asking Natasha to represent them specifically. They're offering to pay the office 200,000 dollars in benefits and 78,000 for her as an individual. But the company she was representing went against all of her environmental morals. She believed they were guilty as can be. How can she represent someone who she wants to go completely against? To think of only herself would be selfish, there were 19 other people who would benefit from the case and would love to split the 200,000 dollars amongst each other. Plus her and Bobby had been taking things a little farther too but nowhere near sex, and she could tell he's willing to go beyond. But he has yet to pressure her and she was thankful for that. "Alright baby, I'll be waiting for you. Don't be stressing yourself out too much over there either. Understand me?" She asked strictly. "Yes ma." Natasha said, rolling her eyes at her mother. "How's daddy?" She asked, she hadn't spoken to him since a few weeks ago, which was the last time she spoke to her mother too. "He's doing fine, just wondering when his ShaSha will be over here to see him." She said, trying to pull the guilt trip. She thought. Her mom always did this, no matter how many times Natasha tries to explain her job and social life. She tries her best to put family first, but other things always catch her attention earlier. But calling every week playing the accountable conscience is not always going to be effective. She loved her family, her mother, father, sister and new niece she's only seen a few times in her 6 month of life. But she was always so busy, she could feel it start to wear on her; she was beginning to take her anxiety medicine again. She was almost 4 months stress free, and pill free but recently, it's been difficult to keep her stressing under control. She woke up thinking, planning, deciding and executing, and fell asleep doing the same things. It was even beginning to put her in a bad mood. "I'll be over soon. I gotta go, call you later." Natasha said, not in the mood to deal with this. She hung up as her mother said goodbye and stopped signing off to lean back in her chair and close her eyes for a few moments. But as she should have known, this can't go too long without interruption. On cue, her phone rings again just as she huffs and answers it. "Ms. Ellis, there's an Olivia on the line for you." The receptionist says. "Let her through Kelly, thanks." Natasha says tiredly. After a few seconds, she hears a voice she knows so well. "So what's up? You too good to hang out with your girls anymore? You can't even spare a call? We ain't heard from you in a week Tash. Don't let your new man make you forget who your friends are." Olivia said, letting her tone run loose. Natasha was suddenly overcome with energy as she quickly left her large leather chair to shut the office door. Olivia continued to rant as Natasha walked back over towards the phone. She usually used a different way of talking around the office, but Liv was asking for it. "What's up with you? You say you ain't heard from me in a week but the first conclusion you jump to is that I don't What about my well being? And first off, the phone works both ways. I see what kind of friends ya'll are; ones who always think it's always about them. But baby girl, I have a life to live and things to do." She says, trying to keep her words light, yet still mild so she gets her point across in a tone that's suitable. "Whatever! The only thing that's changed about this 'life' that you so called have to live is Bobby. Everything else was exactly the same and so were our friendships. So I can't help but put two and two together." "You have no idea the shit I'm going through Olivia so don't even start. The fact that you haven't talked to me in so long only proves that you aren't with my life. Many things have changed." Natasha said, she was feeling hot and knew she better get off the phone soon before she started being irrational. Fighting with her friends was difficult because they were and she needed them there for her. Even though they hadn't spoken in awhile, she knew they were just a call away but when they fought it was a whole different story. "Girl, you know what? I really don't care. If you're happy, than I'm happy for you. But if being happy means that our friendships aren't as strong as they once were, then what can I do?" Olivia laughed. "You do what you want and I'll just see where things end up." "Shut up, nothing's gonna happen. I love ya'll and we'll always be close." Natasha said smiling. She knew Olivia's tone had lightened up by the playfulness in her voice but she couldn't help but feel the wrath of her previous feelings still coursing through her veins. Nor couldn't she help but feel the pressure of unbalance in her life. ****** "Baby?" Bobby asked, coming through the front door of Natasha's town house. He was spending a lot of time here, and Natasha spent some time over his too. So they both decided to supply each other with keys. Bobby was eager to see her and had missed her a lot today; she hadn't answered his calls while he was at work. He walked through the living room and didn't see her. He took a peek into Iodine's cage and he was there hopping around happily. He walked into the dining room to see her slumped over, papers spread on the table and her hands scribbling fiercely. Her shoes were still in place and she hardly looked comfortable. He walked behind her chair and snuck a kiss on her cheek delicately, leaning in for her lips a little more. But to his surprise she leaned away just the smallest amount for him to miss her lips again. Natasha stayed focused on her work. Bobby tried to ignore this, and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. "What's for dinner Natty?" He had taken to calling her this over the past few weeks. She liked it; it was one she hadn't heard before. Her father calls her ShaSha, her girls call her Tash and most of her co-workers call her Nat. But Natty was definitely original. "I don't know. Why do I need to cook ? Cooking takes a lot of energy and time in case you didn't know. Wait, maybe you do know, hence the reason you never do it." She said with a lot of attitude. She looked him right in the eyes, with her hand over her forehead leaning on her elbow. Then all of a sudden she got up and stormed off into the bathroom. Bobby had never seen her act like this. The rudeness was something he hadn't experienced before, and the fact that he didn't expect it only made things worse. He didn't know what to do, so he stupidly walked up to the bathroom door and opened it carefully. She was sitting on the toilet with her hands covering her face, and she was taking deep steady breaths. "Nat- "Bobby started but Natasha cut him off before he could finish. "Get out. Jesus Bobby, give me a break." Natasha said discourteously. Bobby didn't take well to the insolence. He felt the need to put her over his knee and spank her brown ass until he watched it turned red. But he could see what this was; she was strained. Every day, she said less and slept longer. He needed to take care of his woman tonight if it was the last thing he'd ever do. He stood there, he guessed a second too long for Natasha. She looked at him with a teenage face expression that said "Well?" and got up to close the door on his face. But Bobby put his foot into the door's path and pushed it back open forcefully. He grabbed the scared Natasha's wrist and looked her deeply in the eyes. She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip. Natasha was frightened, but very aroused. She was turned on by this side of Bobby as his dark eyes turned the darkest black with sex and he licked his lips. He glared her over, taking his time with his eyes. Her slacks hugged her hips and the tops of her breasts peaked out from her blouse. "Take off your clothes and wait on the bed." He said sternly. Her pussy sighed and hummed between her and she could do no more than obey. She walked around him to the bedroom and Bobby walked to the kitchen. He got a glass out of the wooden cabinet and poured himself a warming cup of Scotch; he would need it. He took a few deep breaths for Natasha's sake. He didn't want to hurt her... too much. She was still his girl, and all he wanted was for her to be pleased. He walked over to the bedroom slowly and even though he told Natasha to strip, he was still shocked to see her sitting on her bed completely bare. He stood there, watching her for an instant. Her dense breasts hung slightly perky and her chocolate, almost black nipple curled upwards towards him. Her pussy was waxed, and her thighs were spread wide from the way she was sitting. She kept her gaze away from him, like a little girl getting in trouble. Although she was in trouble, it was nice to see Bobby's strong and attitude full woman being submissive to his commands. He was still upset with her for feeling like she had the right to bark at him like a dog rather than confide to him with her troubles. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. "Bobby why am-"Natasha started but this time, Bobby cut her off. "Stop, talking." He whispered simply, still staring at her. Natasha was fighting back words that may get her in even more trouble. Her rebellious side didn't like him talking to her this way but her horny side loved it. "Turn over." He commanded. She did, and her ass sat perched up in the air. It was glorious and glowing like the rest of her body. Bobby walked over and ran his hand down the small of her back down into her shaven, deep ass crack. He slid his hands down and reached under to cup her blazing pussy. Then without warning, he spanked her hard. Her brown bottom jiggled and shook from the contact. "Bobby!" She moaned out in surprise. Bobby's cock stood at attention to his name being moaned in the high pitched voice. He did it again and she moaned over and over each time. After the 13 time, he rubbed the dark ruby ass cheeks that now felt hot under his hands. Then he squeezed them and she moaned out in pain. Natasha's ass was already sore from the spankings, and now he clutched them in his hands, giving her no mercy. "Spread your legs." He practically whispered. But it still held influence Natasha couldn't refute. Bobby roughly pulled her to the edge of the bed and put her on all fours to get better access to her pussy. He ran his index and middle finger over her slit and found she was drenched. He could see her shiny juices oozing from her gap. He growled a low growl that rumbled in the room and he saw her hole clench lightly. He slipped his two fingers into her core and her walls were clenching him. She moaned out into the pillow and tightened her muscles rigidly. He quickened the pace and added his tongue to her pearl. He had forgotten how sweet she tasted. She was clean, and she had a true sugariness to her. But Bobby was slopping her down. She moaned and cried but Bobby kept her on edge of her orgasms. It was torture for him to stop completely once he felt her climbing too high but he knew just when to end. "Please." She pleaded in a high sex voice. But she could've spoken a different language because her words meant nothing. Bobby continued to take her on rim and slam her back to reality over 6 times, as far as Natasha could count. Bobby pried himself away from her overflow of rich sap and brutally flipped her on her back. She sucked in a breath of fear and shock before she stared at him waiting for what he would do next. Her fluids shined on his lips and chin and she longed to lick it off and taste herself. "Don't you ever Natasha, speak to me or treat me like that again." He said in an unfathomably, strict and chilling voice. Bobby's anger was still relevant. "Do you understand?" He asked her, she sat there unresponsive for a moment then she nodded silently. "Can I get words?" He asked. "Yes, I understand." Natasha said in a tiny tone that she hated completely. She sounded so weak and helpless; two things she knew she wasn't. Before she could blink, Bobby was walking out of the room on a mission. Natasha felt the emptiness of the room and quickly grabbed her sheet to follow him. "Where are you going?" She asked him, her sheet barely covering her. He was getting his Sperry's and putting them on quickly with a solid look plastered onto his face. He didn't answer Natasha and she suddenly felt bad for treating him the way she had after she replayed the scene in her mind. But she didn't want him to leave, especially with him being angry with her. She had to do something to convince him to stay. "Baby?" She cooed, walking up beside him and grabbing his arm. But he was too strong and fast. He easily slipped out of her weak grip. Natasha watched her man walk to get his jacket and quickly slip it on as he proceeded to head out the door. Bobby's walk was slow and full of masculinity. "Bobby, I'm sorry. Just... Just don't leave." She said, telling the complete truth. Natasha needed Bobby, especially with her rough day today. He stopped in the doorway and watched her for a moment. He stopped in front of the door and waited two seconds to face her. He contemplated something in his head and Natasha waited patiently. "If I stay, you need to talk to me about what's going on." He stated his only regulation. She nodded lightly and Bobby closed the door and walked over to the couch, jacket and shoes still on. Natasha went to put on some clothes and came back out in a white fitted T-shirt and pink lacy panties. Her big tits hung beautifully under her shirt and her thick lips were visible through her panties. Bobby thought watching her put her hair into a big bun on the top of her head. Her contacts off and glasses snugly in place. Natasha looked at Bobby on the couch and felt suddenly uncomfortable. She walked over to him and kissed his forehead lightly. Then reached her hands around his jacket to pull it off. He complied and she hung it on the dining room chair. Then she got on her knees and took off his shoes to place them in their proper place at the door. She went to get Iodine and he lay flaccid in his mommy's hands, totally at ease. She walked over and nuzzled up to her man, just like their first date. "Uh uh Natty. We need to talk." He said, not forgetting their arrangement. She sighed and sat up. He looked her in the eyes with a look that said she wasn't getting out of this. So she leaned into the opposite side of the chair's armrest and put her chocolate legs into his lap. He rubbed them and waited for her to speak. "You hurt me earlier." She said. "I would've never known, considering how wet you were... Don't change the subject either." He said turning a little to face Natasha. She was looking down at Iodine, avoiding eye contact. Bobby encouraged her with more gentle strokes on her legs. "I got an offer today at work. 75,000 to represent a company. But what they stand for and what I'll be saying in court are things I don't think are right." She started, already sounding stressed. "Baby, if you don't want to do it then don't do it. No one's making you, it's your choice. You should definitely turn it down if it's not something you support." Bobby said honestly. He knew what kind of person she was, and he didn't understand why she had such a difficult problem saying no to this. "I know. And believe me, if it was that easy I would've done it as soon as they're asses called. It's just that their offering my employees 200,000 dollars to split. They've been working so hard, and I'd love to give them what they deserve." Natasha said looking down into Iodine, while she stroked his fur delicately. Bobby held so much pride for this woman. She was such a good hearted person; she wasn't worried about the entire averaged year's income for herself, she's worried about the bonuses for her employees. Bobby was completely speechless. He thought for a moment and came up with a halfway decent solution. "Give the offer to someone else Natasha. If you don't care about the 75,000 dollar paycheck, ask someone else you trust to represent the company well." Bobby was speaking pure brilliance. Natasha beamed rays of smiles his way and was considering who to ask the next minute. "I think I will, thank you." Natasha said, felling good she confided in Bobby. She was almost certain he wouldn't understand. "What else is bothering you? It can't just be that." He said, not quite finished. "My mom, she was getting on my case about communication." Natasha said, eyeing Bobby. "Maybe you should try and connect with her more throughout the week." Bobby said, but knew that would be impossible. She barely had time to eat, and almost always came home late. The time she did have, she either spent taking a relaxing bath that she really needed, taking a nap or working in the garden. "You know just as well as I do that that isn't as easy as it sounds for me." Natasha said, rolling her eyes. "It's family, you have to make time for them." Bobby said "I know, I'm trying- I really am... it's just, I don't know." Natasha said, trailing off. "My friends feel neglected too. You should've heard the argument I had today, it hurt so badly to hear them think of me that way. They think it's because of you." Natasha said, giving him a glance. "How is it that I'm keeping you away from your friends?" He said, sounding truly confused. He barely got to see her, matter of fact, this was the most conversation they'd had all week. "I don't know. I think they're upset they haven't met you yet." "Well when will I meet them?" He asked "Soon enough." She said "And your mom?" Bobby said more seriously. "Soon enough. What do you want to eat?" And with that, Bobby leaned over and carried Natasha to the bedroom to finish eating his dinner. *********** "What'd she say?!" Natasha almost screamed in the Nail Salon. The women looked at her briefly before turning back and minding their own business. She thought. "Keep your voice down Tasha. Your sister just misses you. That's all." Her mother said beside her, getting her pedicure. Natasha's mother had jet black hair she made sure to dye regularly. Her brown eyes and thick lashes were a dominant trait passed to her only 2 children. She was a beautiful dark brown woman who taught Natasha everything she knew about life. Her mother was in the middle of telling her that Natasha's sister; Naomi was going around telling family Natasha thought of herself as more worthy than her and overall, cut her own sister out of her life. Although Natasha very disappointed with the choices her beautiful, talented and intelligent sister took, she'd in no way cut her off. She knew her sister was everything she wished she could be, and she'd never think of herself as better-quality. Her sister had left home right after high school for a major in ballet to be a professional dancer, having done it all her life. Natasha was on her way to the 10 grade and wanted to be just like Naomi, eager to graduate and live on her own, hopefully with her sister clearly in the picture. But as Natasha finished her 1 year if college, her sister, too caught up in men to ever be there for her, had gotten engaged and dropped out. She used this time to move in with her husband, cook, clean and make love to him daily. Not once did she go back to her life as a dancer. Naomi had sacrificed everything to be a domestic wife. Now with her baby in tow at the fresh age of 28, it had gotten even worse. Natasha made a vow to make her mark on the world. She was 25 and doing great things. She wouldn't allow herself to become the perfect wife in this strict socially structured place. But she wished Naomi didn't either. "Ma, why would I say something like that? Why would she say, I would say something like that? Sometimes I doubt she remembers I'm her sister, or the life we once lived as best friends essentially. She treats me like I have something against her when I don't." Natasha said, feeling herself want to call her up right that minute. She'll go around getting sympathy from aunts, uncles and cousins and then as soon as Natasha comes by, wanting to connect with her family, they give her the cold shoulder with thoughts in the back of their mind of what Naomi said. It's happened more than a few times. Natasha was getting fed up. This was the thing she needed to be worried about right now. She had absolutely no time to deal with Naomi's shit. "Now look, don't go making a big deal out this. Do you hear me? You two are family, sisters to be even more specific." Her mother said, feeling Natasha's insides boiling with anger. Barbie, Natasha's mother, decided to change the subject to something else. She eyed her daughter for a moment. "How are things going with you two?" She said, catching Natasha off guard with her question. She turned to her mother sharply. Her stomach did a back flip and she took a moment to process the question. She really wasn't ready to introduce him to her family yet and knew that would be Barbie's next investigation. Natasha said opening her mouth to try out the approach to the question. But her mother spoke quicker. "And don't be actin' like you don't know what I'm talking about." She said, catching on to her daughter's plan. Natasha took a breath in defeat, and turned her attention back to her feet being scrubbed beneath her. "Pretty good." She said, feeling embarrassed. It was hard to talk to her mom about sex and men. She didn't have that type of relationship with her. Natasha was always focused on school and friends, much more than she was on boys in her younger years. Her first talk with her mom was her senior year of high school, and it was horrible. But she and Barbie were definitely close. "When are you bringing him over?" She asked, watching Natasha. "Ma, I don't know if it's that serious yet." Natasha said, getting a little defensive. "I'd say it already was that serious Natasha. But okay, we don't need to talk about it any further. How are my favorite ladies?" She asked, referring to Natasha's girls. "They're fine. I think they're getting a little upset because I haven't hung with them in awhile. Well... longer than normal." Natasha said, loosening up a little in her chair. She was now getting her toes painted a glittery dark purple. Her nails were the same color with rhinestone polka dots on her index. Barbie picked out a glazed dark blue, it was fitting and it looked like the color that would be in a mood ring. Natasha was happy to see her mother enjoying a girly activity. ** * * * * * Bobby was in the office, talking to a client on the phone. He was briskly writing notes about how they wanted their accounts to be organized and separated. This company had a lot of demands and over 60 accounts that needed to be sorted in a month. That was more than enough time for Bobby; he wasn't in the top office of the building for nothing. He was applauded for the quality and most importantly, the large amount of accounts sorted in the shortest amount of time. He was good with his numbers. "Okay. I will have them done by or before then. Don't even worry about it." He said, ending his call. Tammy came into his office with a plate covered with a napkin. Her hair was curled loosely, giving it more volume. Her dark green slacks hung loose and her wrap shirt accented nothing. "I know you aren't eating lunch, so I brought you some cookies from our meeting." She said, putting the cookies on his desk and sat on his desk as she always did. "Thank you." Bobby said simply wanting her to leave. He tapped his pen on his notepad silently while he read a spread sheet on his desk. He never let his eyes leave the writing and he was determined to be focused on what he was doing. "Bobby." She stated in a different voice than normal. Bobby looked up to see her looking timidly into her palms on her lap. She twirled her fingers nervously. "I know you don't... I know you aren't interested in me. But I feel... like we could be great together if you took the time to get to know me." She said honestly. Bobby actually felt bad for her. He was focused on someone else and she wasn't his type. "I just don't see you in that way." He stated. Tammy took it upon herself to lean across the desk and take Bobby's hand in hers. Bobby retreated immediately from the coarse, small palm and before he knew it Tammy was leaning across the desk and kissing him. The miniature thin lips were something he wasn't used to, and he almost wondered how he ever enjoyed the size. Bobby gently pushed her away and the look of shock was plastered on his face. "Get out." He mumbled. Tammy quietly left and Bobby rested his head in his hands. He tried not to mix his business and pleasure but it seemed like the option wasn't even up to him anymore. Was this sexual harassment? What else did he need to say to this woman to get it through her thick skull that he'd never be interested in her? And to think his grandmother was fond of her, and preferred her over Natasha. He had to tell Natasha, it was the only right thing to do. A pit of fear entered his stomach; he wondered what her reaction would be. Natasha was such an unpredictable woman and information that may be surprising to some people probably wouldn't even catch her off guard. But something entirely expected could set her off. ************************** "Naomi, we need to talk." Natasha said to her sister over her phone at work. She had thought about what her mother said and decided to talk to her about it. "Come by." She said Natasha pulled up to her sister's house. Her blue Audi parked in the driveway with her husband's Cadillac right behind it. Her house was large and beautiful, right out of a magazine. Natasha walked the walk to the front door and knocked lightly and within a few seconds her sister was there, looking beautiful. Her hair was cut into a long A symmetrical bob with longer sections in the front and short layers in the back. She had also gotten honey brown highlights. Naomi's eyes were identical to her own big brown ones, but her skin was her mother's color. She wore a turquoise blouse that showed off her large breasts. On her chest was Natasha's niece Tatiana. Tatiana was a beautiful golden-brown round baby. Her cheeks pushed onto her mother's chest and her full lips hung limp. Her eyes were framed in lashes that stretched a mile and her hair was curly and untamed. "Come in." Naomi said stepping aside. Natasha walked into the house to the family room she had been in so many times. Her sister's house had a modern feel that reminded her of a robot. She hated to sit on her leather couch but she didn't have a choice. Naomi sat across from her with her hand on Tatiana's back, rubbing lightly. Naomi was a very loving mother, it was apparent she loved her baby. Natasha reached out her hands for her niece; no longer able to fight the feeling of wanting to hold her. Naomi quickly handed her over and sat back in her chair. Natasha cradled her in her arms and brushed away some loose curls that fell on her face. She quickly fell asleep. "Mommy told me what you said." Natasha started, not looking up from the baby. "Why would you say something like that about me?" Natasha said. The baby was a reminder to stay calm and she was thankful for it. Her temper and attitude would be going rampant without her. "How else am I supposed to feel? I haven't heard from you in 4 months. We were best friends, almost inseparable until I got married." Naomi said, the tension rising in her voice. "Yeah, until you got married and decided to put every ounce of your life into pleasing your husband. Plus I've been working, I have things to do. I'm trying." Natasha said. "And I'm not? Is that what this is? Do you feel ?" Naomi asked incredulously. "You know what, yes I do. I have never known you to be so inactive and I don't like it. I want more for you. I want you to be 'happy' by choice." Natasha said as delicately as she can. "What makes you think I'm not happy, and that this isn't my choice?" Naomi said quietly. Her husband was taking a nap upstairs, and she didn't want him to hear this conversation. Then he'd be urging her to go out more and be around people. "Naomi, don't play that bull shit with me. I know you. You wanted to dance and choreograph dances for 5 star Broadway shows. You wanted this," Natasha said, gesturing with her free hand to the house. "But you wanted that first." Natasha pointed to the photo of her and her sister. The two little girls were smiling gleefully after Naomi had won 1 place in her dance competition. Their cheeks were pressed together and Natasha wore a red dress while Naomi wore her leotard and tutu. Natasha was so glad that day, to be standing up and cheering for her sister- the 1 place winner as her daddy lifted her over his shoulders to cheer and clap the loudest. Naomi sat thinking for a moment, and a small tear rolled down her cheek. "Well what do you want me to do? Drop everything and start dancing again? I have a family now." Naomi said, genuinely asking for advice. Natasha knew she had broken through to her sister. "I know that. There are plenty of women who work and keep up with their families Mimi. You don't have to stop everything. Start a dance company." Natasha said, thinking aloud. Naomi shot her head up at the last part, and Natasha saw in her eyes, finally, the dedication and anticipation she knew so well. Natasha felt in her bones that this dance company would be open in a matter of months. After discussing this idea a little longer with her sister it was getting late and Natasha was tired. She looked at the baby that slept in her hands and she knew she wasn't ready to give her up yet. "I want to take her home for the night. I'll bring her back tomorrow." Natasha said, sitting in the now lit family room. Naomi sat in her seat with her feet tucked under her. "Okay sure, I'll pack some things for her." Naomi said, getting up. Natasha looked at her cell phone and saw she had a text; she used her free hand to check it. It was Bobby and he had sent it 20 minutes ago. She must have been too involved with the conversation to hear her favorite band sing her the arrival of a text. She replied: She realized it was 2 and a half hours past the time she got off work. Of course he would be worried about her. Bobby wasn't the pushy type, which she was thankful for. How would he react to her just coming home out of the blue with a baby in her arms? She laughed lightly to herself. She laughed a little harder. Tyson, Naomi's husband peeked from around the corner in his beater and sweatpants. He was a beautiful lean brown man with a husky voice and a thin 5 centimeter long beard. She couldn't have chosen a better brother in-law. He was perfect for her sister. "What's up Big T?" Natasha said jokingly "Not much Lil' T. Can I borrow my girl for a second?"He laughed and walked over to get his baby, who was squirming a little in Natasha's arms. Before he took her, he tussled Natasha's hair and she squealed in frustration. Tyson laughed a growl of a laugh and kissed Tatiana on her chubby cheeks and strolled away into the kitchen. She smiled at how cute he was with her and tried to picture Bobby holding their baby and kissing it so lovingly. About 20 minutes later Naomi returned with a big, full bag and Tatiana in her car seat ready to go. "She may be hungry later, and she usually sleeps through the night. I'll see ya'll tomorrow. Ty should be home if I'm not, he doesn't have to work this Saturday." She said more to the baby, and kissed her on both of her cheeks before Natasha and Tatiana drove away. *************** Bobby heard the front door close and walked out of the bedroom to see Natasha struggling with 2 bags and a baby carrier. Bobby walked over to her and took the carrier to help loosen her load. He curiously put it on the couch and raised the blanket to see Natasha's big brown eyes staring back at him. Bobby was scared. "It's my niece." She said walking over to him and rubbing his bicep. He breathed a breath of relief and looked at Natasha with questioning eyes. He wanted to hold her just as Natasha had when she first saw her. Natasha nodded and Bobby bent to unloosen her straps and picked her up. She was dense and chunky, but completely striking. Natasha smiled at him and walked over to the door to kick her shoes off beside Bobby's. Then she went to the kitchen to cook something quick for her and her boyfriend. But to her surprise there was Chinese on the counter. "Bobby, what's this?" She asked looking inside. Bobby followed her voice with the cooing baby lying in his arms. "I was going to give you a break from cooking but I didn't know you'd be coming home late today, so it's probably cold." He said sounding a little disappointed. She walked over to him and stood on her tip toes to peck him lightly on the lips. "Thank you baby, I should've called you. I went over to my sister's and straightened everything out. Then I was holding Tatiana and I wanted to bring her home with me for the night." Natasha said preparing their plates of Chinese food and popping them into the microwave. Bobby leaned on the counter across from her, admiring her from behind. Bobby asked silently. But then he felt terrible for even thinking that way. Ever since they're incident in the car happened, he hasn't been able to get his dick anywhere near her pussy, but their lips were a whole different story. Bobby was wondering why she had taken up this specific type of abstinence but decided against questioning her. "I'm glad you worked everything out with her." Bobby said, rubbing the baby's belly. He was holding her like his hand was a seat. She faced forward, content with all she was getting to see. He was taking well to Tatiana and enjoyed having this warm baby in his arms. He kind of wanted one of his own with Natasha. He looked at her and imagined her glowing with his seed growing in her belly, Iodine in her hands and her bright smile flashing her happiness towards him. "So how was work?" Natasha asked, still facing the counter. Bobby panicked for a moment; how would he tell her? He took a deep breath. "Well baby, I actually need to talk to you about something." Bobby began. Natasha turned around immediately and an eyebrow was lifted. "Yeah?" She asked, extending the word out a little longer then it should've been. "Um, Tammy? The one from Mother's Day? She got a little carried away and uh- kissed me. I just wanted to let you know." Bobby said, about to get up from his seat and leave the room. " Natasha hissed. The microwave buzzed behind her and she quickly pivoted to focus her attention elsewhere. "Did you kiss her back?" She asked casually. "No! Of course not. I told her to get out." Bobby said, defending himself. "Well okay. I trust you." Natasha whispered, trying to contain her emotions. She was feeling fury, envy and territorial. "Natty, you have nothing to be worried about." Bobby reassured her. He got up from his seat and walked over to where she was standing. "I better not have anything to worry about." She mumbled. "Mhm, hush." He said, kissing her temple. ********* "It's Saturday Bobby! What could you possibly have to do?" Cameron said, making no sense. Cameron was persuading Bobby to attend the fight party he was hosting tonight. It was 4:00 in the afternoon, and Bobby was just waking up; Cameron was to blame. Bobby was starving and walked into the kitchen to see pancakes, eggs, bacon and cheese grits waiting on a plate Natasha had wrapped up for him. She returned Tatiana unwillingly to her rightful parents earlier that morning. "Natasha wanted to spend some time with me today." Bobby said honestly. But it was actually him who wanted the quality time. She felt the same way though, and she missed talking to him. Their work days were draining and very demanding. He looked out the window to see her car there, but she wasn't in the house. Then he looked to the right to see a piece of her round ass sticking up on all fours in the center of her garden. "She can come too. There's going to be a lot of people here Bobby. I want you to come dude." He said, completely winning him over. "Alright, alright. I'll ask Natty about it and I'll call you back." Bobby hung up when Cameron started to rant about being him bitch. He walked out the front door in his sweatpants to see her ass turned towards him. She had on shorts that were covered in dirt. She was barefoot on her knees and was working in her garden. She leaned behind her for her small shovel and eyed Bobby's feet under her big floppy hat standing behind her with his arms crossed over his bare, muscular chest and a small smirk on his lips. She laughed. "Should I be calling neighborhood watch to report a pervert in the area?" Natasha laughed hysterically at her own joke but Bobby kept his face straight. "Harty Har Har. Why'd you let me sleep so late?" He asked her. "You were tired." She said, turning back to her work in the garden. The front of her townhouse was always beautiful. The mixture of fruits and vegetables created a circle in the center then there were beautiful flowers on the outer rim of the circle. The inside stayed blank, for her to kneel and easily tend to the growing plants. Bobby saw some movement in the flowers and noticed Iodine eating a small tomato delicately. He sat on the step and watched her. "Why do you grow fruits and vegetables when you never eat them?" He asked curiously watching Natasha let Iodine feast on her garden. "I'm not the only one capable of eating them. Birds, cats, bugs, and rabbits come by here all the time." She said still planting. Bobby considered this and thought it was reasonable, considering she thought of this shit as a hobby. She really didn't need a reason to do it other than the fact she thought it was fun. "Natty?" Bobby asked in a small voice, which Natasha recognized as a voice that was followed by something he wanted her to do. "Yes Bobby." She said looking up at him, waiting. "Cameron invited- "She cut him off and continued to work in her garden as she spoke. It was such a weird combination that Bobby was so governing and rough but always wanted to please her and make sure she was okay with everything. But it was a quality she admired in him because it was a perfect quality to deal with her attitude and fragile side too. "Go." She said simply. "You'd come too?" He asked her, she looked up at him again. She didn't want to go, she wouldn't know anyone. "I won't know anyone. Plus I'm going to the office later today" She said looking at him; she was pleading with her eyes for Bobby to understand and not press it any further. "Fine, we're spending the night together- no interruptions." He said coldly. "Okay, sounds good." She got up and bent to his level to give Bobby a kiss on his cheek. He pulled her in for a kiss on the lips but she protested. "I'm dirty." She stated, fighting to get out of his hold. Bobby gripped her ass firmly and it calmed her immediately. She stopped struggling and let Bobby get as many kisses as he preferred. He was kissing her down, sucking on her lips gracefully. Then he kissed her harder and she moaned in his mouth when his tongue slipped through her teeth. Their tongues danced and Natasha moaned even louder when he ran his tongue over her sensitive lips. She slid her manicured fingers over the bridge in his sweat pants and it was Bobby's turn to growl. To get back at her, he kept one hand tightly on her ass, and moved another up her stomach to kneed her breasts through her green t-shirt. Natasha broke the kiss and cooed too loudly for public. Bobby chuckled and pinched the nipple between his index and thumb. "Ouch." Natasha said, but it was in a whisper/moaning voice. "Mmm, I'm sorry baby." Bobby said. And as he stood he kissed the clad nipple he had pinched and looked down on Natasha. He slapped her firmly on her ass and with that, she grabbed Iodine and walked into the house. Bobby followed right behind her, making sure to not leave too much space between them. ******** Bobby was sitting on the couch as 11:30 rolled around and Natasha wasn't home. A piece of him was worried but the majority figured she was still in the office. His legs were spread apart as his arms rested on them. His phone sat in his hands and he awaited the return of at least 1 of his 5 unanswered phone calls. The dinner of shrimp alfredo with a side salad sat cold on the table that was admirably lit with 5 candles and brand new roses he had purchased earlier that day. Beside the roses were 2 glasses of white Marlow that Bobby had paid a good penny for. But the bubbles had been long gone. The front door opened lightly and Natasha's shoes clacked calmly as she kicked them off. She walked in to see Bobby barely acknowledge her. She strode over to sit beside him but he still sat stiff. "I left my cell phone home by mistake, and Kelly wasn't there to accept my calls so they're all left on her machine. I'm sorry." Natasha said robotically and unenthusiastically. Bobby got up before she could even finish her explanation and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Natasha sighed quietly and unbuttoned her jeans. She went to the kitchen to get Iodine some more water, he was running low. But she passed the dining room table and took in the beautiful set up but then blew out the candles. The alfredo didn't look too edible; the noodles undercooked and the sauce very scarce but the fact that he had tried still warmed her heart. But the fact that she had stood him up was heartwarming as well, but not in the good way. As she sat at the sink, waiting for the water to get cold she closed her eyes, finally realizing how tired she was. She thought, but then quickly contradicted herself. She gave Iodine the water and walked into her bedroom. The lights were still off, but the bathroom door was closed and the light inside illuminated from the bottom of the entrance. Natasha was ready to fully give herself to Bobby, she just needed to find the right time. She didn't want him to be mad at her, tired from work or in the backseat of him BMW. She wanted it to be perfect. Bobby had some boxers laid out on his side of the bed, so Natasha striped to her underwear and put on one of her sleeping T-shirts. She put her hair in a big bun, and put on her glasses. As she was standing in front of her mirror fixing her bun, Bobby walked out of the shower completely naked. His cock hung long, and his chest and hair were glistening from his shower. He quickly got his boxers on and walked into the living room, closing the door back behind him. Natasha stood there thinking on what to do. She went out into the living room and saw him lying on the couch, a blanket lying between his legs. The lights were off and there was only the glow from the TV lighting up his body. She walked around him slowly and sat on the edge of the couch, his hips resting behind her. She fought for his eye contact but he refused to give it to her. Natasha lovingly stroked his hair and sat for a minute, watching him. "I'm sorry?" Natasha asked. She was patient with him, and it took him 5 minutes to answer her, but she never stopped stroking his hair. "I miss you." He said, finally looking at her. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she had to look down to avoid the intense stare. It was like he was looking right into her core. Natasha took a hard gulp. "I'm here." She said simply "No you're not. You're at work or sleeping or doing something else." Bobby said to her. She felt bad, but she wasn't stopping her life to cater to him. She would not become her sister. "I'm committed to my job and it just so happens to require a lot of my time." Natasha said, getting defensive. "I cook for you don't I? And I suck your dick when you need it." She said. "It's not just about that Natasha! Those are not the reasons why I'm with you so why do you think they'd become the reasons I stay with you?" Bobby said. Natasha didn't realize he felt like this and she abruptly felt guilty. "Then you continue making all these plans with the only time we really have to spend together. I just want you to myself sometimes. I want to be able to kiss you, talk to you and hold you without being on a fucking time crunch. Everything is always so rushed." He said, turning back to the TV. "Bobby, I have friends, family and hobbies too." Natasha tried to say gently. "You know what; you're right. Absolutely right. So it sounds like you're too busy for a relationship right now and I'm not gonna' sit around and be unhappy." Bobby said getting up from the couch and strolling to the bedroom. Natasha felt panicked and followed him to see him gathering all his stuff. "You're not even gonna' try and work this out with me?" Natasha asked, feeling her throat clamp and her eyes sting. She felt weird begging this way so she stopped. She sat on the bed and watched him rummage through the drawers and look through the bathroom. He threw on a shirt and walked out of the area. Natasha watched him as he put on his shoes and opened the front door just to slam it behind him. She stood there as he walked down her walkway to his BMW. But this time she didn't stop him. Bobby sat in his car and saw her standing there in the window beside the door, with the curtains and blinds pulled wide. She didn't care if she didn't have on any pants as tears ran down her face and her body shook with crying aftershocks. Natasha lay in her bed, at 5:00 in the morning, 5 hours since Bobby left, sobbing into her pillow while her eyes felt dense in their sockets. She never realized how lonely she was or had been until that night. She hated the meaninglessness she felt within her as she grasped her man wasn't behind her as he always was, nuzzling her neck and lightly rubbing her from behind, coaxing her into sleep. ****** "I want you to meet him. He is so chill plus we need to catch up anyway." Olivia said through the receiver. Natasha was lying on her couch, enjoying the entire container of Ben and Jerry's while Iodine hopped around her legs. Cheater's played in the background and Natasha fought to keep her attention away from the evidence and onto her conversation with her friend. She still hadn't broken the news that she and Bobby were no longer an item. "Okay, I'll meet ya'll there tonight." Natasha said quietly. "Yeah... you okay? You sound off." Olivia asked, worriedly. Natasha brought the shine back in her voice, but she knew it could only last momentarily. "I'm good. I'll text you when I'm on my way though." "Alright." Olivia said warily. ******** "Hi I'm Natasha." She said as she reached her hand out to greet the man Olivia had been dating as they waited for their table. He was tall and his skin was screaming some mixture of white, black and something exotic. But his eyes were a light, honey brown and she found herself intrigued. He wore a red and white striped v-neck with dark jeans. Natasha's brow furrowed as he registered something in his head and it showed on his features. The look remained as he said his name, and then something was registering in her brain as well. "Cameron." He said slowly. He smiled wide and Natasha knew exactly where she'd heard the name. "Are you Bobby's friend?" Natasha asked quietly. His smiled decreased as he noticed her facial appearance changed into something much more different than what the coincidence required. Her eyes grew low and she left his gaze quickly. Then just in time, Olivia had returned from the bathroom; oblivious to everything. Natasha was feeling on edge about Cameron being longtime friends with Bobby. The last thing she wanted was for Bobby to have a pretty close link to how she was doing, what she looked like, how she acted and who she spoke to. Anything Olivia knew, Cameron would probably know too and so would Bobby. "What are you guy's talking about?" Olivia asked cheerfully as she latched onto Cameron's forearm that rested into the pocket of his jeans. "Nothing much babe." Just as he finished his sentence, their tables were ready. The hostess led them to their seats and Natasha slid into the booth. Cameron and Olivia sat side by side in front of her and nuzzled up with no time to waste. Cameron's arm was wrapped around her lower waist and Olivia casually let her head be supported by his shoulder. Natasha was overcome by the action and averted her eyes swiftly. Natasha thought as she toyed with the menu's flap under her hands. Olivia sensed her discomfort. "Babe, did you know Bobby and I are best friends?" Cameron asked Olivia. Olivia's eyes grew wide and she turned to Natasha. "What?! How crazy is that? Rhode Island really is too small." Olivia said just as their waiter approached the table to take their drinks. "How'd you two meet again?" Natasha asked, trying to get Bobby away from the topic of discussions. She remembered Olivia saying something about meeting in a car. "Well, I was driving on I-95 peacefully and Cameron here, cut me off. I mean, he sped up, got in my lane so quickly it made me have to stop completely on a main highway." She said, using her hands to emphasize her words. Natasha smiled at her friend and noticed Cameron's expression. "What?" He spat. "That is not what happened -- Olivia cut off and I just went around her." He said simply. "Anyway, after Cameron cut off, he ended up beside me at a stop light. He was staring at me—" "Because she was so lovely." Cameron said eyeing her. "So I gave him the finger, but then he invited me out for dinner and who am I to turn down free dinner?" Olivia said, as if it was the only reason she had dinner with Cameron. He rolled his eyes in disbelief and awaited the arrival of their drinks behind Natasha. The waiter advanced with 6 drinks in total. 3 were the drinks they had ordered, but the other 3 were extravagant bartended drinks. Cameron and Olivia's were a blend of orange and strawberry in tall glasses while Natasha's was a wide champagne glass full of mango magic. This had been her favorite drink from this restaurant specifically and she was curious to know where the drinks had come from. "What is this?" Olivia asked happily. She didn't know where they had come from but she began sipping it anyway. "It's from the bartender—on the house. And he'd really like if you came by the bar." The waiter said to Natasha, making eye contact with her. Natasha glanced over at the bar to see the handsome Terrance piercing his eyes into hers. From where she sat, time was his friend and only made him look better. Olivia's eyes narrowed to slits but she didn't stop drinking her free drink. Natasha pondered her choices at this moment. She was happy that they had received the drinks and she didn't want to be offensive and not thank him personally for paying for them she kind of hated him. He continued to keep his eyes on her and he awaited her decision too. Natasha slowly moved up from her booth seat and sauntered over towards the bar. Terrance had a 6 o'clock shadow that framed his cheeks and chin. His jaw bones had strengthened and his hair was curly and short. His white teeth broke through as Natasha approached him. She kept her face straight and focused on keeping her greeting short and cordial. "Natasha baby! How you doin' girl? You look good." He said, eyeing her over. Natasha rolled her eyes and pursed her lips at his attempt to compliment her. "Yeah um, I just wanted to thank you for the drinks." She said gently and already pivoting herself back in the direction of the table. "No problem, I'm actually on break so I'd love to talk to you for a little bit." He asked, optimistically. "I don't have much to say..." "Please? Just give me 5 minutes." Within an instant he was walking from around the bar and into one of the seats in front of it. Natasha sat in the one adjacent to him as she waited for him to verbalize. "How's work going? People always talk about your firm." "It's great." Natasha said. She wasn't explaining or adding more details to anything; he didn't deserve it. "Natasha, what happened with us? I'm completely confused." Terrance whispered fiercely. Natasha thought of the right words to phrase her feelings that would be appropriate for public. But as Terrance waited, he decided to use that time to speak again. "You just stopped answering my calls, I came by a few times and you wouldn't open the door -- I didn't understand." "You were cheating on me! How can you act like you didn't do wrong?" Natasha asked. " I wasn't cheating on you! I loved you Natasha, why would I hurt you like that?" Terrance said sweetly. Natasha suddenly remembered how smooth Terrance could be with his words and that soft tenor voice. He slipped a hand around one of hers that rested in her lap as he spoke but still kept his eyes on her. Natasha wasn't quite ready to believe him since she had seen the evidence with her own eyes. She snatched her hand out of his reach and narrowed in on him. "I saw you. You kissed the blonde bitch outside your job that day." This one statement changed his whole demeanor. His confidence flew out the window and he bowed his head in defeat. Terrance was testing the waters with how much it was Natasha actually knew. He thought it was just a rumor from one of her girls but to have her actually have seen it was something he couldn't fix. It also made trying to lie to her just that much more difficult. He hadn't changed one bit, and you would think he'd try and be open with her. "You dirty lying dog." Natasha laughed. She got up from her seat and began venturing back to her table. "Thanks for the drinks." She called out behind her while she tried to stifle flipping him the bird. "What was that?" Olivia asked. Natasha would've loved to tell her what had just happened but then she noted Cameron's open ears right in front of her. Their appetizer had came and it seemed that was all he was focused on, but ears hear things regardless of if you want them to or not. She didn't want Bobby to know, so the best bet was to not let Cameron know. "I'll tell you later." Natasha mouthed. "Okay, well I'm moving in with Cameron next month!" Olivia said happily. This dinner was going south for the two women and Natasha knew it. There were so many things they wanted to say to one another that were limited because of Cameron. "... Wow." That's all Natasha could manage to say. They both gave her the same look at her forced enthusiasm. But Natasha couldn't be happy for her friend. They had only been dating a few months—not much longer than she and Bobby, and they hadn't even begun talking about moving in with one another. "What do you do Cameron?" Natasha asked as she took a bite of the appetizer. She felt the need to grill him a little bit. She was skeptical about why they were going into things so quickly. "I'm a realtor, my dad owns Biller Inc." Cameron said. Natasha gave him an impressed look. She heard the name of the company a lot around Rhode Island and knew it was very popular in the state and was recently projecting out of the state too. She could only imagine what his house looked like. "Oh great." Natasha said. Cameron excused himself to the bathroom and Natasha gave Olivia a knowing look. This would be the moment they got to share everything and she knew it would only last awhile. "What's wrong?" Olivia asked frantically. Natasha already knew what she was referring to. "We broke up I guess." Natasha said quietly. " Why?" "I was too busy. He felt like I wasn't spending enough time with him." "Aw poor baby. Tash girl, you look terrible. But what'd Terrance say? And why didn't you want to say it in front of Cameron?" Olivia asked, getting defensive. Natasha rolled her eyes at her unneeded attitude. "I don't want anything getting back to Bobby. But he was trying to lie to me and tell me he wasn't cheating! Can you believe that?" Natasha asked. "Disgusting. You don't think me and Cameron moving in together is a good idea?" Olivia asked. "Hell no! What are you doing? You guys haven't even been together that long Olivia!" Natasha whispered. "I know but, I think things are gonna' work out. If they don't I'll still have my lease in effect so I'll just move back in." Olivia said. "Whatever. Just be careful." Natasha said as Cameron approached the table again. ************** "Tomorrow will mark 3 weeks." Natasha told her sister Naomi. Ever since they called a truce and got down to the bottom of their animosity for each other, they had been closer than ever. Natasha was thankful; she wanted to stay involved in her only niece's life. But not only that, she loved her sister. Their chemistry and similarity kept them in harmony and in sync whether she wanted to be or not. Natasha sat on a barstool and held her niece now, cradling her in the joint of her right arm. Naomi cooked dinner across from Natasha on the opposite side of the island counter. "I know it's hard Tash, I can tell you're really hurting. But sometimes things happen for the best. Now I'm not saying you two aren't meant to be, just maybe ya'll need to reflect." She said, stirring the macaroni and turning to her sister. Naomi looked into her sister's face and saw a completely different woman. She kept her hair either limp, or in a boring ponytail. Natasha lost touch with herself, and her nails were far past their time to be done again. Naomi knew this was a sure sign of some sort of trauma. She felt a little sorry for her sister; she knew of her last heartbreak with Terrance and figured that incident was only making things more difficult for her now. She shivered at the thought of Natasha's reaction to seeing her soul mate living another life with a child and woman that she had nothing to do with. "Do you think I'm wrong?" Natasha asked her sister, looking into her niece and playing with her curls. She cooed as she always did, then spit bubbles through her already inherited full lips. After Naomi didn't respond for a moment she looked up to see her pondering the question. "I know being in control and fulfilling your own desires before anyone else's is the way you are. But if you follow this rule, you'll be so unhappy in the end. Sometimes it feels good to care for someone else." Naomi told her. Natasha sat silently. Naomi chuckled. "I guess we're complete opposites. We can learn a little something from each other." Natasha thought. "Baby, is the food ready?" Tyson called, walking into the kitchen unknowing of his sister-in-law's presence. Natasha smiled at him lightly and Tyson gave her a worried look. "You okay Natasha?" He asked, standing against the stainless steel fridge, arms crossed over his chest. He was less than a few feet away from Naomi who was also evaluating Natasha. Natasha nodded towards them and she knew Tyson wasn't buying it. Natasha and Tyson held a close relationship and he was almost like a brother. They had known each other for the 5 years that he had been married. He was understanding and very funny. Tyson looked to his wife for an explanation and she didn't need to refocus her gaze to know what he was asking for. His thick brows were pushed tightly into a thick line of confusion. "Men problems." She said simply to her husband. His face lightened and he nodded slowly, as if he finally understood. "Don't listen to your sister. Ask a real man for advice on real man problems Lil' T. It's the most logical thing to do." He said, leaning over the Island counter. He caught a look at his daughter and smiled lightly. Natasha could only imagine his over protectiveness of her as she aged. "Look, Nay and I wanted to have a big dinner with everyone. Your parents and friends. Come by next weekend and get your mind off of everything." Tyson said, Naomi turned around from preparing food to see her reaction. "Livi and Summer?" Natasha asked, they knew her friends all too well. But along with that came the understanding that they were good people. "Of course." Natasha nodded and suddenly couldn't wait for this weekend. Her family and friends could definitely cheer her up. "It sounds like you haven't done anything wrong, but I'd still call her." Cameron told Bobby. It had been a month and a half, and Bobby still hadn't spoken to his love. He was pushing through his heartbreak and was begging to break out of his funk. He didn't want to have any setbacks while talking about her. "We aren't talking about it." Bobby said sternly over the phone. He had gone almost an entire working day without thinking of her, and that was a first. "So did you know Olivia and Natasha are best friends?" Cameron asked. "How do you know Olivia?" Bobby asked, remembering Natasha bringing up her 2 favorite friends a few times in the past. "Dude, we've been dating for the past 2 months." Cameron said laughing. "Wow, that's great. So I guess you hear a lot about me huh?" Bobby asked, secretly wanting an update on his girl. "No, not too much. She tries not to let me hear everything." Bobby and Cameron talked a little longer about Olivia. She and Cameron were hitting it off and he was really feeling her. But Bobby's mind was wandering. It ventured into the woman he missed so much, the thought of her curvaceous body, citrus smell and dedication physically hurt. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach and immediately needed to take a minute to calm down. He suddenly heard Tammy's knock on his office door. It opened and she stepped through with care. She looked at him sympathetically and sat in the chair across from him instead of on his desk and Bobby was curious as to why. He hung up his phone, ending his call with his best friend. "I know you're going through something and I want you to know that I'm here, as a friend" Tammy said. Bobby had known Tammy for over 4 years and she had never held such honesty in her eyes as she did in this moment. Maybe it was Bobby's loneliness that was making him see women in a different light. He sat in his chair for a moment and looked at his digital clock. It was 4:50 and he was almost finished his work. "I appreciate that... Do you wanna go out for dinner?" Bobby asked, looking up at her. Bobby didn't know what the hell he was saying until it was said. He watched her emotions shift from honest and humble to surprise and excitement. She brushed a strand of her shoulder length red hair away from her face and nodded happily. "I'll meet you out front in 10." Bobby said, focusing back on his work, unaffected by the plans he just made. Maybe it would be good for him to experience different women, even if he was almost certain they were delusional. As Tammy walked out of his office, pencil skirt and sweater a little tighter than they should have been she turned back and smiled lightly. Bobby walked towards the classy main entrance of the building and saw Tammy's blue sweater standing off to the side. She looked into the street, swaying slightly. As Bobby opened the door to feel the light breeze of mid summer weather, she turned into his direction. "Hey." She said, trying to control her smiles. Bobby smiled at her lightly as they walked in the darkness towards the parking lot. "I'll follow you out." She told him as they walked in the opposite directions to their cars. Bobby nodded lightly and strode slowly and emotionlessly to his BMW. He thought as he started up his car and backed out quickly, Tammy was already there and he pulled out into the street. Bobby had been driving without a radio playing for the past month, every song always reminding him of Natasha. Whether it be the Trey Songz, the music in the car on their way to his parent's or on the way to their dates. He couldn't sacrifice his emotions and pursuit in trying to live without her. Bobby pulled into the Red Lobster's and found it was really crowded. He had to park so far away from the entrance and it just so happened the one available parking spot had one right next to it. Tammy pulled her Buick in and stepped out. They walked in silence together, into the swarming restaurant. Bobby held the door open for her and she didn't thank him, something he wasn't used to. Bobby rolled his eyes at her rudeness and proceeded to the hostess. She was a cute brunette in all black. "Table for two?" She asked in an unexpected deep voice. "Yes." Bobby said to the woman. "Name?" "Bobby." "Okay Bobby, It'll be about 25 to 35 minutes." She said, handing them the timed buzzer. Bobby noticed there was nowhere to sit because the entire waiting room was filled. Bobby found a wall to lean on and took this moment to relax. Tammy stood right beside him, supporting her own weight. "Let's sit in the car." She said to him. Bobby opened his eyes to see her looking up to him, hopeful for some reason. He didn't respond, just walked to the exit and opened the door for her. Once again, she said nothing regarding his unnecessary chivalry. They were sitting in Bobby's car, complete silence surrounding them. Bobby leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes like he had back in the restaurant. Tammy shifted in her seat a little. She was thinking of a scheme to get his attention. "Shit." She said quietly. Bobby looked over to her to find her hands up to her eyes and the visor down. She looked into her eye and hissed in slight pain. "What is it?" Bobby asked her, not moving a muscle. "There's something in my eye." She said. "Can you blow in it for me?" She said, turning towards him. Her hand was still covering her eye and Bobby sat for a moment, thinking. He really didn't want to, but he also didn't want to say no either. That would be impolite, and it would also make this dinner that much more uncomfortable. So as Bobby leaned towards her, she quickly moved her hands from her eye. But before Bobby had a chance to get air through his lips she was on him. Bobby's brain sparked at this contact on his mouth. He hadn't felt it in awhile, and he missed the action. He kissed her back, enjoying the rush he was getting. Tammy moved her hands to his face, and her rough hands gently rubbed his neck. Bobby kissed her and she slipped her tongue through his lips and they tapped for a moment. Her tongue was small and dry, Bobby hated it. But his bareness and depression was alleviated for that split second. He was trapped to continue this boring and unpleasant kiss for the sake of relief from the month of sulk. Tammy moaned low and lightly, and Bobby tried to pretend she didn't. He tried to imagine the moan of a high pitched baby voiced woman. His cock sprang at the thought and he continued to think of this female. Bobby moved his hands to her small tits, and tried imagining the dense, D cups he once loved to feel. She moaned her moan and Bobby interpreted it into the one he desired. He moved his hands down, following the contours of her body to her bottom. She was slightly elevated and he could feel on her perfectly. He winced at the turn off but retreated to his imagination. Tammy moaned even louder, but she moved her hand to his full cock. It was a hard rod and she silently applauded herself for the amount of sex appeal she must have had in order to get him this rock solid in only a few minutes. But little did she know, it wasn't her doing at all. Tammy unbuttoned his slacks and unzipped them. She used her delicate fingers to reach into his briefs and pull out the vain filled, pulsing dick she dreamed about so many times but she never had the opportunity to utilize. The big purple tip shined with fresh pre cum and she took a second to admire it. She grew a pool in her panties and moaned quietly. Bobby's eyes were still shut as he anticipated a black head of hair with auburn highlights leaning over his thick member. Tammy stroked him a few times to get his full length. He was at least a long 8 inches and 3 inches in circumference. Tammy's mouth placed thin lipped kisses on his dick and Bobby of course, envisioned something else. He grumbled and it completely mislead her as she moaned back, and eagerly placed her mouth around his tip. She bobbed her head slowly at first, and then gained speed with time. Bobby whined out again. "Fuck..." He whispered to her, encouraging two different people who were doing the same things; one in his mind, one in reality. She bobbed harder and in a circular motion, removing all air in her mouth and tightening her lips around his cock. Her hands wandered to his balls and she milked them in her hands. "Ohhh... Yes." He said in a rough sex voice. Bobby squirmed a little in the driver's seat and reached for Tammy's ass again. She sighed onto his dick and the vibrations sent him almost over the edge. He could feel his balls tightening. "Oh yeah... Natty I'm gonna cum." He said, loudly. His eyes flew open and down onto the woman who was sucking his dick in the parking lot of a popular seafood restaurant. She stopped sucking; staying still and Bobby realized who it really was giving him pleasure. He frowned in disappointment and snatched his rod out of her lips. He put himself back into his pants and zipped them up quickly. He breathed out sharply and looked at this woman who watched him curiously and wiped her lips quickly. "I've got to go. I'm sorry." He said, handing her the timed buzzer and basically asking her to get out. She nodded and exited the car quickly, clearly embarrassed. Bobby drove down the dark street in a hurry for no apparent reason except to hopefully remove the incident and emotions followed. ************ Natasha was awakened to her own heavy breathing and her sweat beading all over her body. She was dreaming of Bobby again. She took a few more deep breaths, hoping to calm herself. Natasha slowly moved her feet to the floor, pushing herself off the bed. She walked into the bathroom and relieved herself, loving the chilling, peaceful feeling she got from it. She flushed and washed her hands robotically. Natasha took this moment to observe her appearance. She jumped at her own reflection. Her hair was so lifeless, simulating her own emotions. Dark circles under eyes and low lids told the story of how little sleep she got. She was working day in and as long as she could at night. Her job was her escape from her thoughts and true sentiments. She went into the kitchen to eat something but she wasn't in the mood for anything filling. She grabbed an apple and headed to her baby's cage. He was sleeping calmly and she didn't want to bother him with opening his cage noisily to give him food. She decided she'd wait until later. She turned on her radio to find it was Whitney Houston's birthday and they would be playing a few songs in tribute to her. Natasha was eager to hear one of her favorite artists as she got dressed and showered. But the eagerness took a turn for the worst as the song placed throughout the room. Natasha sang along with the first verse, not fully taking in the words. But as the second set in, she felt herself slipping. It was the complete definition of how she was feeling, and she didn't have the strength to turn the song off as she had found her way back to her bed, and more specifically her pillow. The songs continued to play and she finally realized how much Whitney Houston's music held a very depressing theme. ******* "It felt like my vagina was on fire." Barbie said, to her two daughters as they all cooked in Naomi's kitchen. They were talking about their birth experiences, a field Natasha knew nothing about. She sat quiet, listening to the disturbing and beautiful stories her family had to share. She was glad she didn't have to speak about anything; she wasn't in the disposition to say much. It was only 3:00 and they were almost done cooking the food. Natasha invited her friends and Olivia insisted on inviting Cameron, as they had been becoming much more than just an item. She was happy for her best friend though, seeing her in high spirits was a wonderful thing. "Ew Ma, please." Naomi said, walking over to the fridge. Her father, Joe was in the family room with Tyson chatting about current events and sports. Tatiana probably lying in her grandfather's arms. Natasha could tell Joe loved Naomi's family just as much as his own, and he was hard to impress. Natasha would always have trouble bringing men home to her father, his accusations made her paranoid and she often learned he was always wrong. But one thing her father was completely right on was Terrance; he hated him. He knew he was trouble and Natasha dismissed his evaluation. But she paid the price in the end. Now she was paying a different one she still wasn't quite over yet. She still found herself thinking of the tanned skin and dark eyes almost every day. She sighed to the cheese she was grading and her mother and sister shared a worried look. The Ellis women were cooking baked macaroni and cheese, ham, snapped greens, mashed potatoes and pecan pies for desert. The kitchen was a wreck and it was hot. The stove, oven and microwave were running at the same time. Natasha was feeling somewhat anxious and decided to go take some medicine and get some air. She reached into her purse on the island counter and grabbed her prescription pills. She took out 2 and walked to the fridge to get something to drink. "I thought you didn't need them Natasha?" He mother asked her, her full attention on her daughter. One hand was on her hip and her waxed brows were furrowed. "I started getting panic attacks again." She mumbled to her mother. She grabbed a bottle of water and suddenly remembered her last panic attack. It was a few nights ago and was a mixture of work stress and longing for her Bobby. She swallowed the pills hard, feeling her emotions trying to get the better of her. "Why are you getting panic attacks ShaSha?" Her father said, appearing from the entry of the kitchen with his granddaughter in his arms, Tyson right behind him. Natasha didn't want this to be a big deal. Her aggravation was growing within her and she just wanted to leave the room. Coming here was a bad idea; her family wasn't helping her in any way. "I'm just getting them, I really don't know why daddy." She said, hatching her escape plan. "You sure? I hope it's not work. You may want to take a break sometimes." Her father said. He took a seat at the cluttered island counter and eyed her questionably. "I'm fine. Work is fine." She said. "Well what is it sweety?" Her mother asked her. "Nothing! It's nothing. I said I was fine. Just leave me the hell alone." She mumbled, quickly walking out of the suddenly cramped kitchen. "Natasha!" Her mother said, trying to reprimand her for her discourteous behavior. But Natasha kept walking and her angry mother now went following her out of the door and to the porch. "Natasha!" Her mother called again, walking out of the front door and onto the porch. Her mother had every intention on talking to her sternly but when she saw her strong and powerful daughter weak and crying she forgot about it all. Barbie's face softened as she consoled her daughter sobbing into her palms. She gently rubbed her back. "I'm guessing it's about this man. Baby, the feelings will pass. I promise you, the ache ain't gonna last forever." She whispered. Her daughter pulled her hands away from her face and began wiping her tears. Her face was entirely wet and glistening in the sunset. "I would know Natasha; I've been there more than once. I know this feeling. When you love, you love with everything. You put every small amount of your life form into this one man and when it's gone, you're in lost. Just focus on what you have, focus on the future. Which is a loving family, a great career and more men." Natasha thought for a moment. Her mother was speaking the truth. She would put her attention on her niece, building her firm, her relationship with her mom, sister and friends. She would try her best to be there for them and before she knew it, she wouldn't even be thinking about Bobby. Natasha wiped her face, finally done crying and hugged her mom. "I love you ShaSha." Her mother whispered in her ear. Barbie rubbed her daughter's back soothingly and closed her eyes. She prayed for her daughter's hurting to be over as quickly as God could make it gone. She hated to see her this way. "I love you too mommy." Natasha whispered. "I think you should go take a little nap until dinner. What you think?" She asked, pulling away from her daughter's embrace to look her in the eyes. Natasha really didn't want to, but knew her mother was suggesting something useful. Natasha nodded silently and her mother led her to the guest bedroom with her hand around the small of her back. She opened the door to the beautiful bedroom. It had a beach house theme, blues, whites and light grey's. Seashells were everywhere and the big window beside the bed let in just the right amount of light. Natasha suddenly felt drained and took off her sandals to climb into the tall, plush bed. Her mother helped pull back the layers of comforter and sheets and tucked her into bed. She planted a kiss on her forehead and a delicate smoothing of her hair before smiling and turning back to the bedroom door to exit. Natasha sat for a moment, letting herself sink deeper into exhaustion. Next thing she knew, she slipped into deep sleep. ******** "Why would you let her do that?! You're a fucking idiot!" Cameron whispered fiercely over the phone. Bobby was finally talking to his best friend in what seemed like ages. But Cameron understood he needed his time alone, and was more than willing to give it to him. "I know, I know. I don't even think she's attractive at all. I was just thinking that she..." Bobby trailed off, not ready to complete the rest of his realization with himself or Cameron. But he went too far, and Cameron was going to press. "That she what?" "That she was someone else." Bobby said quietly. He sat in his contemporary apartment alone. He put his forehead in his palms and let out a deep sigh. "I've never known you to get this worked up over a girl." Cameron said, sounding very concerned. He sat on the couch fully dressed in a button down paired with dark jeans; something Olivia picked out. He loved not having to decide on his own clothes and just simply said yes or no to the choices. But Olivia knew his style and he almost always went with her picks. "I'm done talking about her." Bobby said coldly. "Let's go out tonight." "Oh..." Cameron stated. He looked down the hall at Olivia getting ready in the bedroom of her apartment for their dinner party over at Natasha's sister's house. Olivia was dancing to some music she had playing and curling her hair. "I'm doing something tonight." He tried to say quietly into the receiver. Olivia spun around at the sound of her man turning down a plan for tonight. She strolled over to the hallway slowly, her face crinkly in suspicion. She wasn't the meddling type; if she wanted to know something, she'd just boldly ask. "Shit." Cameron whispered quietly. "Who's that Cam?" She asked somewhat loudly, wanting whoever it was on the other end to hear her. "It's... Bobby." Her eyes widened and then narrowed. He knew she couldn't think too highly of him, considering he was the reason behind her best friend being heavily depended on medications and crying every night of her life. Cameron even witnessed it when Olivia called her before bed to check on her. She would be so deep into crying or so distant she would barely say anything. Cameron kind of felt bad for her, and shit, he even had some hard feeling towards his friend Bobby. "Oh." She said simply and turned back to the bedroom. "Where are you going and will Natasha be there?" Bobby asked unemotionally. Now that the opportunity had presented itself for him to see her, he wanted it. He wanted to talk to her to try and work things out because he missed her deeply. Bobby was overcome with the crave to end his sadness and sorrows. "Her sister's house. And yes Bobby, but I don't think it would be a go-"Cameron was cut off. "What's the address?" He asked. "Bobby, she's trying to-"Cameron was cut off again. "Give me the damn address Cameron! I'm not fucking joking." Bobby said, feeling urgency in himself. He knew he wanted her back, even if he hadn't been sure this past month and a half. Tonight, she was his. ****** "Natasha girl!" Olivia said, bursting into the guest room of her sister's house. Natasha was awoken to a much darker room than when she fell asleep. She squinted at the brightness in the hallway, and then leaned up just the smallest amount. Naomi and Summer followed behind closely and carrying a smile on their lips. The light was suddenly on and the covers were being ripped off of her comfortable, warm body. Natasha sucked her teeth in protest and fully sat up in bed. Her sister sat beside her, and wiped the sweat off her brows. "You look a hot mess. You should probably clean yourself up a little." Summer said, sitting across from her, her eyes narrowed in pity. "No, why would I?" Summer looked distrustful. Natasha knew she had something planting in her head she wasn't quite sharing. "I'm just sayin', it's an important dinner. Have enough respect to look presentable." Summer said eyeing her yoga pants and tee shirt. Natasha usually wore them to sleep, but they had become an average daytime outfit lately. Natasha nodded slowly in agreement. She wanted to look nice, maybe it was draw some attention away from her weird behavior. Natasha was now taking a hot blazing shower that utterly rejuvenated her nerves and eased her muscles. Her sister's bathroom was like a dream lavatory. The Jacuzzi type tub could house 3 people and the his and hers sinks were framed by Jasper gems. Natasha admired the house as if it was a piece of art, but it didn't feel like a home to her. She walked out in a towel while her body dripped with water. The temperature difference made her shiver lightly as she padded back to the guest bedroom. Summer was there in her black sleeveless wrap shirt and dark skin tight jeans. She looked professional and you could tell she didn't want to be too casual for this dinner night. Her white hair was spread all over her shoulders, almost reaching her mid back. She sat on the bed engrossed in whoever she was texting until she noticed Natasha's presence. Natasha could see it was 5:30 from the sea shell wall clock sitting on the nightstand. Summer had clothes lain out that she could only recognize as her sister's. There was a silk material blouse. It was an elegant emerald green with a low empire waist. The front had a cluster of material that allowed it to pleat just a little. The neck was a wide 'U' shape and the sleeves were loose. Natasha was dressed with her hair straightened and now Summer was doing her makeup. Natasha tried to object to this part, but she was already too far gone. "You really let yourself go huh Tash?" Summer laughed. Natasha shrugged as lightly as she could, to not mess up Summer's process. "I guess, I've just been too busy." She said, it was partially the truth. "What is it you've been doing that you weren't doing last month?" Summer said, sounding like Olivia while pulling back from her canvas to broadcast her raised eyebrow and face of fully fledged disbelief. "You lookin' like this is only making you feel worse. To feel good, you gotta look good." And with that, she stood Natasha up to the vanity mirror on the wall. Natasha was surprised at this person she saw, but as her revelation faded, it turned into expectancy. This was who she was, who she had always been. A new leaf finally turned for her at this moment and she knew this was a fresh chapter. Natasha would begin her transition to fulfillment styled living as her mother suggested. She smiled lightly in her reflection. She was radiant, and Summer stood beside her, soaking up all her silent praise and glory. "Thank you Summer." Natasha said quietly, and then she turned to her friend and gave her a light hug. Summer hugged her back, but the worries in her eyes were thankfully not seen by Natasha. Summer knew Bobby was probably downstairs, sitting at the table talking to her parents and sister. She prayed that Natasha's new found self-confidence wouldn't obliterate into the same pitiful state she was in only an hour ago because of his occurrence. **** "I was always good in math; numbers is something that just came naturally." Bobby said at the large dining room table. He had arrived with somewhat welcome arms that he wasn't expecting. The table was set and Barbie held his eyes intently listing to his words. He jumped at the smell that was so good, it was intoxicating. Now he knew where Natasha got her cooking skills from and suddenly couldn't wait to eat the similar looking food. He was anxious to see her but also extremely nervous. Her father said she was taking a nap, but would be down soon. The empty chair to the right of him was for her and he suddenly pondered whether she'd be willing to sit beside him or not. Next to her was Summer's seat. On the head of the table were Barbie and Joe who sat said by side. Across from Bobby was Naomi, Tyson and their baby's highchair. At the other head of the table were Olivia and Cameron who you could tell were either holding hands or fooling around under the table. "That's nice, not too many people have that gift." Naomi said from across the table. She knew all about Bobby and was the one who allowed him to come for dinner. After talking with Cameron and Natasha's girls about his plan, she thought it was sweet. Bobby shrugged being humble about his talents as he had learned to be. Naomi's eyes averted from Bobby, and so did Tyson's. Bobby turned around and there she was, after a month and a half, she was standing in the arch entrance of the dining room. Natasha's eyes were immense as she looked into the onyx ones she had dreamed about so many times. The lips that had buried itself into her womanly creases and licked her to release. The body she roamed her hands over from top to bottom and that she felt so safe beside. Bobby admired the woman he missed, noticing her classic glow. But there was something off. Natasha walked over to him, cautiously. She took the available seat next to him and Summer came in and took the one beside her. Bobby smelled her signature smell and almost took her on the table in that instant. Once she sat, she automatically let her head hang low into her lap as she began fiddling with her fingers. The table was silent as they noticed the tension and conflict between the couple. "You feelin' better now?" Barbie asked, honestly worried. "Yes, a lot better." Natasha said sighing, now looking up and into the eyes of the cooing little tyke one in front of her. "Was there something wrong?" Bobby whispered, as worried about her as her mother was. His choice to have an intimate, private conversation with her at the table back lashed in his face. Bobby suddenly regretted his choice of words and the timing. Natasha turned to him with a cold look on her face and her eyes like slits. "Yeah, there was." She said sternly and then turned back to the baby. Natasha was feeling a startling emotion now that Bobby was suddenly in her reach. She felt livid. Everyone around the table gave each other a wide eyed worried look that was actually hinting some humor. "Well... Let's say prayer." Barbie said, taking Joe and Tyson's hands. Natasha sat, startled at her assessment that she would have to hold his hand for longer than 1 second. Bobby reached for her, eager to get some contact. She warily obliged and held his big safe hands. He gently stroked the back of her palm, and Natasha's eyes fluttered closed in thrill. Bobby stared at her, and saw she was in an entirely new world. He smiled lightly, thankful everyone's eyes were closed. "Thank you Lord for this food we are about to enjoy. Bless all who eat tonight, and all of those who don't. Thank you for protecting and gathering all of these loving people here to this table. Amen." Barbie said. "Amen." The table said in unison. They began passing dishes around the table and stacking the food on their plates, Bobby, Tyson, Cameron and Joe having a whole damn competition with one another. Natasha laughed lightly at her father's plate, but the thing that made it even funnier is that she knew it would eat it all and then some. Naomi caught sight of her sister's glances and laughed lightly as well. Everyone at the table was looking at them as if they had 3 heads. This caused the connected women to laugh even louder. "Have you found a spot for your company yet Mimi?" Natasha asked, trying to start conversation at the table. Everyone was so much paying attention to eating that no one was saying a word. "No not yet. I'm having a tough time finding a good spot." "What company?" Olivia asked, her fork sitting lightly in her hand that was resting on the edge of the table. "Natasha swayed me to start a dance company." Naomi said, eyeing her sister with a small smile on her lips. Natasha smiled down into her plate and Bobby eyed her in respect. "That's wonderful girl." Olivia said enthusiastically. "Do you know anywhere she can rent sweety?" Olivia whispered to Cameron beside her. He was a couple inches away from his nose touching his plate, and he was eating at top speed. "I haven't seen any commercial lots yet. But if I do see anything I'll let Olivia know so she can pass the message." Cameron said, deciding to get a sip of water. "That would be perfect Cameron. Thank you." Naomi said. "Can you do my garden for me soon? It's starting to look a mess." Barbie said to her daughter, starting a new conversation. This was how it was supposed to be, mini topics scattered all over the dinner table. "Of course. You thinkin' of the plants you want?" Natasha asked cutting a slice of ham into a smaller piece with her knife and fork. "I'm not sure. I saw some Casablanca Lilies in a catalog and I thought they were beautiful. But I also like Queen Anne's Lace." Her mother said thoughtfully. "No to the Lace. They look like weeds; I'd never plant them anywhere. The Lilies are high maintenance which I know you are not gonna want to mess with." She said giving her mother a knowing look. "Try Allegheny Spurge with some basic flowers in the center. You'll need to trim it like, once a month." Natasha said. "Just pick em' out and plant em' please. Make sure it's pretty." Barbie said, turning back to her plate. "Bobby you play sports?" Tyson asked from across the table. Bobby looked up from his plate for the first time in the last 5 minutes. He wiped his mouth quickly in preparation to respond. "Yeah, Cameron and I ball a few times a week. I play a little football too." He said nodding. Tyson had a spine-chilling smile playing on his lips just as Bobby and Cameron grew one as well. "We'll have to play one day." Tyson said. This relinquished a talk of basketball and sports at the table amongst the 4 men. As Bobby spoke, he let his rough hands wander over Natasha's soft knee under the. She had to look at him to clarify it was his hand touching her skin; he was so smooth with his progression as he enthusiastically kept conversation. Natasha almost choked at the feeling and the arousal it caused her. He stroked the length of her upper thigh, letting his fingers forcefully separate her thighs and press on her dampening cunt. Natasha could've moaned out right then, but she decided to stop his touch instead. Bobby's dick was vastly increasing in size as he was overcome with horniness and the desire for her wet cunt. He began to think of all the things he wanted to accomplish with Natasha while in bed and he shifted a little in his seat. She moved to capture his hand and shift it away. But Bobby sensed her intentions and grabbed it instantaneously. Natasha struggled to get out of his grip without causing a scene and couldn't do it. Bobby moved her hand over towards his hardening cock, just so she could see the effect she was having on him. Natasha restrained herself from stroking it through the fabric and could barely keep the visions of the rod entering her out of her mind. She used her free hand to pinch his skin with her nails. He hissed out in pain, being totally inappropriate. The noise got him a few weird stares around the table but Natasha laughed. Bobby turned to her with his half smile, and his eyes glazed over. But Natasha watched him with a different look. She looked saddened by him. She was frustrated with him, after all he claimed to have cared about her he up and left without even trying to hear her side or let her change anything. It seemed like he didn't even want to. He essentially gave up on their 3 months of hard work. She looked away from Bobby, feeling new emotions beginning to surface. She took a deep breath and centered her thoughts. Then Natasha continued to eat her food. "How's work babygirl?" Summer asked from beside her. She was pretty quiet tonight and Natasha was almost sure she saw their little escapade. "It's going perfectly. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else honestly." Natasha said. It was the accurate, was it stressing her out? Absolutely. But it was something she was willing to push through the trauma for. "I figured that. That's something most people can't say about their jobs." Summer said. Bobby used this comment as a bridge to recognition. Natasha loved her job and he was selfish to ask her to focus all of her attention onto their relationship. Shit, even he couldn't do something like that. She was trying her best and he should've been happy for that. "It looks like everyone's finished. Who's clearing the table?" Naomi said. The table went quiet. "Natasha and I will." Bobby said, watching Natasha with a small smile on his features. Natasha rolled her eyes at him and got up from the table, grabbing their plates gracefully and without saying a word. Bobby laughed at her attitude and picked up their glasses, following her to the kitchen. Bobby saw her round ass at the sink, with her back facing him. It was tempting not to drop the glasses and lead her bottom right into his groin from behind. Bobby wanted Natasha so badly now that she was within distance. He guardedly walked up beside her and put the cups in to the silver sink. "You okay?" He asked, seeing the dark circles under her eyes. He reached up to touch them without thinking, but he was reminded of his actions when she moved away from his touch. "Can you get the rest of the dishes? I'm ready to go home." Natasha said coldly. She kept her eyes down into the sink and briskly washed. Bobby couldn't deny that her behavior towards him was hurting his feelings as well as his confidence which was necessary for getting her back. He didn't think getting through to her would be this difficult but he became aware he temporarily forgot who he was dealing with. Natasha could be so stubborn sometimes. "We need to talk before you leave." Bobby whispered, trying to put some bass in his voice but Natasha was unaffected. He walked back into the dining room that was now empty yet cluttered with leftover food and empty plates. He could hear everyone in the large family room talking and laughing. He finished with collecting all the dishes and was now helping Natasha wash and dry them all in silence. "How you been?" He asked her, trying to soften her up for when they really talked. "Great." Natasha said. After a few seconds Bobby grasped she wasn't returning the answer back to him so he decided to step in. "I've been doing fine too. Thanks for asking." Bobby said. They continued to wash the dishes in silence until Natasha turned off the water and wiped down the counter in completion. She reached for her bag on the island counter and Bobby hurried to keep up with her. She walked swiftly to the family room where everyone was lounging and talking, full from their meals and quite tired. "I'm going. I'll call ya'll soon." She waved to her family then proceeded out. "You leaving too Bobby?" Summer asked from the floor, the baby actively playing with her. "Yeah. Nice meeting everyone. Thank you for allowing me to come." He said with a wave. He saw Cameron snuggled on Olivia's lap on the couch. She was lightly rubbing his cheek and he was almost asleep. Bobby gave him a solid nod and hurried out the door to find Natasha. She was opening the door of her car and Bobby more or less sprinted after her. She was sitting when he got to her. He stopped her from closing the door and she looked as if she were killing him with her eyes. The only light was from the dashboard of her Toyota. Bobby squatted to get down to her level and find her brown eyes. "Natty, let's talk. You aren't going until we talk." Bobby said. "I don't have anything to say to you." Natasha said quietly. "But I have something to say to you. So let me speak." He said. "Speak." She stated, shrugging her shoulders lightly. Bobby sighed for a moment, looking out into the street trying to think of the precise words. "I miss you and I'm sorry." He said. She scoffed heartlessly. "Wonderful." She tried to close the door but he still held it open. "I'm sorry for leaving you." He decided to add. She gave him the look she had threw at him when he didn't leave the bathroom quick enough a few months ago. "Look Natasha. I'm fucking trying to work this out. I know you miss me; I know you want me back. Help me out." He said, almost pleading. "How do you know I want your sorry ass back?" She said, getting angry. "I can see it. I can tell you're hurting as much as I am." He said quietly. Natasha looked beyond him. He had no idea how badly she was hurting, and his pain was probably nothing in comparison to hers. "Let's try again? Let me take care of you." He whispered, naturally rubbing his hand up her leg and while putting light touches on her hot pussy through her jeans. Bobby sensed her excitement and leaned in for a kiss. He took advantage of her sexual vulnerability and that was the moment he learned Natasha's sex was a gateway to controlling her emotions. This kiss was forceful. Bobby was hard and violent with his lips to make up for lost time. He took her bottom lips, as he was accustomed to doing. It was full, and he moaned at its perfectness. He sucked on it roughly, almost swallowing it whole. She whimpered and squeezed her thighs together, but Bobby's hand was still cupping her blazing pussy. His hand was trapped and he more or less forced his way back to her pussy and tried to knead it through her jeans. It was basically unsuccessful and he found himself getting frustrated with the thick material. His angry grunting gave Natasha a sharp pain in her lower stomach and she knew she was moistening. "Come to my place." He whispered. Natasha nodded, not trusting her voice. He quickly slammed her door and walked swiftly to his car parked on the curb. Natasha had a hard time finding the key and starting the ignition since her hands were shaking so badly. **** Natasha was walking up to Bobby's apartment. She smiled at the man who was sitting at the front desk who recognized her. She took the journey up the flight of steps slowly. She knocked on the door and Bobby was there, already stripped to his briefs. His hair was tousled and his chest held a thin happy trail that wasn't there a month and a half ago. Natasha liked it; it made him more masculine, if that was even possible. He stepped aside to let her into the nicely decorated apartment. The hardwood floor was almost black and the sofa was white. Everything was black and white. Natasha thought it didn't fit him at all. As she stood taking in the room that she hadn't seen in awhile, she was suddenly interrupted with soft kisses on her neck. Natasha backed further into the man behind her and leaned her neck to one side for him to get better admission. Natasha's heart was pounding at the contact she longed to have for what seemed like forever. Her breathing sped up to a soft wheezing. Bobby led her to the bedroom and she sat on the edge, looking up at him with big eyes. He loved the power he was feeling right then and Natasha parted her lips just the slightest and that was all it took for Bobby to dive for them. Natasha wrapped her hands around his neck and tangled her hands into his hair. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, as deep as he could get it and caressed everything inside. He laid her onto her back, still kissing while on top of her and supporting his own weight. Bobby reached for the hem of her blouse, tugging it lightly up over her head ending their kiss. Bobby hummed as he laid eyes on her red sparkly bra that had her tits jumping out like muffin tops over the cups. He took the cup in his hand roughly and Natasha whined under him. He used his hands to massage her breast. Natasha's eyes closed and she licked her top lip. Bobby reached under her and unclasped her bra. He slowly removed it, tempting himself. He buried himself into her big milk chocolate tits, topped with dark chocolate nipples that stood at attention. Her breasts were so soft and smooth. Bobby sucked one nipple hard and let the suction sound soar in the atmosphere. Natasha was moaning and groaning her heavenly baby like sounds and it only encouraged Bobby to go further. He gently nipped on the nipple and Natasha rose up off the bed just a little. Bobby gave the other nipple just as much care. After he finished, he unbutton her jeans and slowly slid them down her full, thick thighs. Natasha watched him carefully, taking in his reaction. He looked like an animal about to eat their first meal in 3 months. He threw the jeans on the floor carelessly. Then he pulled down the pink panties she wore. Bobby inspected the panties and saw the crotch was fully saturated with her watery juices. Bobby threw them down with her pants and rubbed the hood of her smooth pussy. He bent on the edge of the bed and Natasha moved with him. Her legs dangled off the side and Bobby threw the legs up over his shoulders, not wanting them to be in the line of attack. Bobby nuzzled her cunt with his face and found it was slippery. Natasha cried at his eagerness and gripped her own round breast. Bobby took one good lick from pussy hole to pearl, mostly licking her clean. She cooed a little more. Bobby began sucking roughly on her clit, clenching his lips in an 'O' and fitting her gem right between his lips. Natasha's hips rose and Bobby put a hand on her bare stomach to reconcile her. Natasha's hands met with Bobby's head and Bobby slipped 3 fingers in at once. Natasha was wide eyed at the feeling of being stretched so suddenly and without warning. Bobby continued to suck her sex and fuck her hole at the same time and Natasha could feel herself reaching the brink. "Oh, Bobby." She whispered, signaling her peak of arousal impending. Bobby kept it up and before he knew it he tasted even more of her divine juice and Natasha was gripping sheets and squirming away from his lips. He gripped her hips firmly, telling her he wasn't stopping yet. Natasha screamed fully fledged, followed by silent convulsions. "Baby, my neighbors..." Bobby whispered. He was happy he was giving her so much pleasure, but his neighbors were old and nosey. They'd be sure to bring up their knowledge of his love life somehow if Natasha kept cumming like that. Natasha was quiet now, the orgasm reaching its close. Bobby climbed back up the length of her body to her mouth and gave her a motionless kiss, hinting her to taste herself. Natasha took the hint and sucked all of her off of his jaws. It was almost nothing except for a little bitterness. "What you think?" He whispered, watching her reaction about her own cunt. She sat there considerate, smacking exaggeratedly. "Not too bad." She said. Bobby kissed her passionately and pulled away to laugh a little. "Much better than that." He said, sitting her up and lying on his back. He reached behind the pillow for the condom he left there but Natasha surprised him. There she was, on her knees on the bed, hunched over his cock and fondling it in her smooth hands. Bobby shuttered at their skin temperature difference. She was blazing hot, her hands somewhat clammy but he was unusually cold. Natasha licked his length with her tongue. She used as much of her saliva as she could with intentions on wetting him up enough to suck. Once he was soaked in her spit she dragged her thick lips over his entire cock. The feeling made him shudder and the sight made him cry out. Bobby groaned and bucked his hips towards her mouth, signaling he was ready for more. Natasha gave him a serious glance. "Patience." She said. Natasha put Bobby's smooth beginning into her mouth, letting her lips tense just a little. His width was already parting her jaw even though she was only at the tip. She panicked for a moment, thinking about how she was to accomplish this, she sucked him off before but for some reason he seemed thicker than she remembered. She never had a dick this wide and long before Bobby, most of the men she'd been with were her height and quite skinny so they weren't too much to handle. But Bobby was a tall healthy man, carrying a good amount of his weight in his pants. Natasha took a semi deep breath and moved down on the dick as far as she could, experimenting. She went down a little more than halfway and then picked up her pace. She sucked him like a pro, bobbing her head and tightening her grip with her lips. Then she added her hand to the shaft and jerked it quickly. "Ohhh shit!" Bobby said, adding emphasis on the 't' in shit. Natasha could've smiled in pride if her lips hadn't been busy. Bobby was facing the ceiling, lost in a daze. His eyes fluttered closed and before Natasha knew it his hands were reaching for her hair. "Fuck! Ohhhh fuck." He gripped the hair tightly to hold her in place and Natasha squealed on his dick. Bobby came right in Natasha's mouth. Natasha gave him a look he couldn't see, but if he could, he would've felt chills down his spine. Bobby released his grip and looked back at her to see her face wound into a sour look. Her mouth was bare. Bobby predicted her to spit but he was so amazed when his cum was nowhere in sight. "You need to eat more fruit." She mumbled quietly. Bobby's cum was so masculine it was almost insufferable. He tasted of pure salt, his diet being majority meats. Natasha would definitely be putting healthier, more nutritious food in his meals from now on. Bobby grabbed the condom he was reaching for earlier and quickly rolled it down his length. "Bend over." He mumbled, Natasha could barely hear him. She moved to the edge of the bed on all fours while Bobby got off the bed and stood right behind her. He stood for about 5 seconds, just admiring the sight. Her brown pussy lips hung somewhat low and her glory was peeking out. Her back door hole had a ring of bright pink around it and Bobby knew he wanted to be in there before the night was over. She sniveled lightly when he gripped her bottom and he immediately held it a little tighter. He spread her cheeks and guided his dick deep into her pussy. Bobby roared evenly as her tight walls pressed themselves against every surface of his cock. He thought about Natasha and wondered how she felt, they always say the better it is for the guy, the more painful it is for the girl. "You okay?" He asked as he pumped her slowly. Natasha was wincing with each thrust. Every buck of his hips was stretching her poor cunt even further and it didn't feel great. But it wasn't anything she couldn't push through. She moaned lightly and Bobby interpreted it as an answer to his question. He picked up pace and things were feeling better for Natasha, she was more vocal than when they first started. He was hitting her spots and his big balls were slapping so close to her clit she was close to reaching an orgasm solely from that. Bobby was disappointing himself, he was so close to cumming and they weren't even 10 minutes in. He could usually hold out at least 40 or 45, but Natasha was really gripping him. Bobby pressed on her lower back, signaling her to arch and Bobby nearly passed out at how her walls clenched him then. Natasha was now crying out, like she was in a horror movie. Bobby was brushing against her g-spot with every caress and Natasha could hardly keep her eyes open. Bobby's hands tightened on her ass just as Natasha's hands tightened on the sheets. "I'm cumming!" She screamed out. "Cum for me baby. Cum all over my dick." Bobby said in a deep, low voice that would've frightened Natasha any other time. But she did just that. Natasha screamed out a high pitched shriek right into the mattress, but it was still incredibly audible. Bobby was thrusting her hard, making the entire headboard bang against the wall. It was like the beat of a techno song in a club, something JWOW and Pauly D would love to hear. Natasha's body was shaking uncontrollably. Her pussy was still convulsing from her last orgasm, and she was now reaching her second. Bobby was grunting behind her until he felt his balls tighten beneath him. He slowed down his pacing and Natasha's pussy was collapsing once again. Bobby sat for a few more seconds, gently moving in and out of Natasha's pussy. He spotted the cum dripping down his cock and looked at the sweet hole with the pink ring. He looked back between these two about 5 times. He decided he'd rub her hole to get the idea across. Natasha felt him stroking her ass hole and sensed some fear. She heard so many stories about how painful it was, and she was sure the men weren't as long and as thick as Bobby. But she wanted to try it, for his sake. "Be careful." Natasha said quietly in a desperate, pleading quality. Bobby kissed her back precisely. She was such a trooper and was willing to do anything out of the ordinary. He didn't want to hurt her, but he did want to try this out. He slipped his rod out and her cum left a string between her pussy and his cock and Natasha twitched at the sudden barrenness. Bobby pushed it against her hole but it didn't move. He spread her upper cheeks, spreading her hole too and he got some of his tip inside. Natasha moaned out, but the moan was different. Bobby decided to help ease the pain by dabbing in digits in her dripping pussy and rubbing her clit. Bobby pushed more of his cock in and Natasha tensed up at the pain, inarching her back but this decision wasn't the greatest. She experienced more pain as her muscles clamped on the dick inside her ass. "Natty you have to relax." He said to her sternly, hearing the agony in her cries. Natasha followed his commands and arched her back once again. She let go of all her tension and lay almost wilted on the bed. Bobby was grunting like never before. Natasha's ass scraped the skin of his dick and it felt fantastic. Bobby massaged her clit with more pressure as he felt himself reaching his orgasm. He moaned out something unintelligible and Natasha moaned as well. The feeling of Bobby in her ass wasn't even noticeable, her orgasm was clouding everything. Bobby shot his seed in his condom and sighed. He leaned over and lightly kissed the somewhat damp brown back, she was sweating evenly and it only turned Bobby on more. He quickly picked her up and sat on the edge of the bed with her on his lap. She got the hint quickly and positioned herself to ride him. She placed her legs on both sides of his thighs. Bobby watched her intensely and her hair fell like curtains down her face when she looked into his lap to lead his dick into its proper place. He wanted to see every crease of pleasure on her features and this was the perfect position. She sat slowly, not even taking in his whole length. She wrapped her hands around his neck instantly and her eyes fluttered closed. Natasha let out a light purr as he filled her. Bobby moved his hands to her round ass and looked up into her eyes. Natasha moaned as his rough hands touched her and assisted her with riding. Natasha was taking her time, only taking half of his piece. Natasha's cries picked up frequency and Bobby knew she was close. He planted his feet on the ground firmly and pumped her with his entire cock. Natasha was wide-eyed and was doing no more than gasping. Bobby watched her closely, feeling the clench of his own balls. Natasha's brown tits were bouncing off her body and her nails scratched at Bobby's shoulders weakly. As she reached her orgasm she howled up towards the ceiling in satisfaction. Bobby stopped pumping her and Natasha collapsed over his shoulder. He stroked her back delicately and couldn't help but marvel in her presence. He had never thought he'd get to have this moment with her. The past 2 months without her had prepared him for a life not involving this woman but here she was; fast asleep in his arms after he had the privilege of making sweet love to every hole she owned. Bobby laid her onto the bed and put the covers over her naked body. He smiled down on her as the moonlight seeped through the window and illuminated her features. He laid beside her and found his place spooning her while his arm rested over her stomach and he nuzzled her neck.

unrelatable Natasha awoke to a light ray of heat on her face. The sun was piercing the blinds and she wondered what time it really was. The black sheets were unfamiliar and she took a moment to process where she had spent the night. She reached a hand behind her and the thud signaled nothing was there but solid mattress. She pivoted lightly and saw a t-shirt Bobby laid out for her and she sat up to put it over her nude body. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she realized her bottom exceedingly sore and tender below her. She deliberated for a moment about where things would go from here as far as her relationship with Bobby went. They hadn't discussed their situation thoroughly with one another before they decided to have sex so she doubted he thought any differently about why he walked out on their bond. Natasha ventured out to the living room and found Bobby reclining on the couch with the remote in his hands. He was watching ESPN and as Natasha walked passed him his eyes focused on her. He took in the big t-shirt showcasing her long brown legs. "Morning." she said quietly. "Goodmorning." Bobby replied as Natasha walked toward the couch with the intentions of sitting on the empty spot beside him. "I got you some breakfast." He said before she sat down. "Oh, thank you." She said walking into the kitchen. The microwave's clock broadcasted it was 12:44 PM and she questioned why she slept so long. The breakfast was from a diner close by and it contained a bacon omelet with cheese, tomatoes, green peppers and mushrooms. Natasha eagerly searched drawers for a fork but was unsuccessful. As she turned around to ask Bobby, he was already standing in the doorway leaning casually on the wall. Natasha jumped a little at the unexpected sight and Bobby smirked. "In the far left drawer." Bobby said. Once Natasha had her fork she sat at his dining room table to eat. Bobby sat right alongside her silently until she came close to finishing. "You know we need to talk." Natasha said though letting her eyes stay glued to the delicious food before her. Bobby ran his hand through his hair before he let out a sigh. "I figured." He said. "We should've talked about this last night, but I need to know what has changed." "I missed you, and I came to the conclusion that if I need to put up with your job to have you around; I will." Natasha had to admit to herself the confidence in his voice and the certainty in his eyes seemed trustworthy. "Okay, well... We'll see how much you believe that with time." She mumbled. "So, how you feelin?" He asked. Natasha kept her face in the direction of her food but gave him a quick glance. She knew he was referring to their night and the activities that took place. One of them was including her ass. "A little sore, but other than that... pretty good." She said. "Oh, sorry." He said sincerely. "What are we doing today?" He asked as if they were linked together by the hip. Natasha removed herself and the plate from the table and into the kitchen. "Oh, I was actually planning on going to the office for a few hours." She said quietly. Bobby sat silently at the table as he tried to find the words to say. He remembered his words just a few moments ago and he knew he needed to stand behind them, no matter how much he didn't want to. He took a big sigh and opened his mouth to speak. "Alright, well, call me when you're finished and I'll pick you up so we can do something afterward." He said exasperatedly. Natasha was overcome with joy at actions to follow his newly found trait he had acquired just for her. She turned around quickly and Bobby couldn't help but smile at her casual beauty. Natasha hurriedly advanced for his lap and straddled him face forward. His arms found themselves around her hips and he enticed her into the direction of his pink lips. She lovingly accepted his offer and they found themselves deep into the midst of arousal. Bobby fixed his hands widely below her bottom and supported her weight as he stood from the chair. Natasha gripped his flexing biceps at the same time he carried her towards the bedroom. "Bobby, it's already 1:30..." Natasha said quietly as he placed her delicately on the bed. Bobby's eyes were roaming over her body while he sustained his weight above her and she doubted he was paying attention. She took hold of his head with both hands and guided him to her eyes. He growled in frustration and she grunted as he collapsed on top of her. She laughed playfully when he nuzzled into the indentation of her neck. Trying to get out from under him would only be ineffective, so all she could do was sweet-talk him with gentle strokes on his back with her nails. "Look, I respect you and the things you're dedicated to. But we do need to come to a mutual agreement as a couple..." Natasha sighed loudly and Bobby kissed on her neck tenderly in response. "We need to talk every other day, just a meaningful conversation." Natasha thought this was reasonable. "And, you need to let me know when you're feeling too stressed out." He said with sex thick in his voice. Natasha moistened at the thought of the things he'd do for her when she was feeling a little anxiety. "Okay." She said optimistically. Bobby rolled over onto his back to let Natasha get washed up and head to her house to get clothes to wear to work. Bobby decided he wasn't waiting around for her all day; he didn't want to be that much of a loser. He reached up to the nightstand right beside the bed that held his phone and quickly found Cameron's number. He lay on his back and held the phone over his face while he sent him a text. Before Bobby had the chance to lay the phone back on the bed sheets beside a stream of dried cum that was vibrant against the black background, Cameron had texted him back. Bobby was up and he walked into the bathroom to find it steaming heavily. The glass shower was hiding her silhouette in a translucent yet foggy glass. Bobby slowly approached the glass to luckily find Natasha facing away from him. He stripped himself of his boxers quickly and joined her. He took in her glistening milk chocolate body and soapy backside. He licked his lips in enthusiasm while he gently worked his hands down her shoulder blades. Natasha let out a small yelp when she felt the cold body against hers. Bobby laughed at frightening her and she sucked her teeth in joking annoyance. He sat his head on the crease of her neck and let his nose skim the skin lightly. While he did this he let his hands graze the soap on her body from around her ass, around the front of her thighs and back up into the spot between her legs. Natasha tried to continue washing herself but found it difficult with the manly hands exploring her skin. Bobby's fingers toyed with her soapy clit from the front and Natasha muttered at the sensation. "Such a sexy sound." He mumbled, which only triggered more noises to erupt from her lips. Bobby slowly moved 3 fingers into her core and she rose on her tiptoes as he furthered his travel. He pumped her slowly to start, but gained momentum in his hands. Within 30 seconds he was pounding her deep and fast with his long, thick digits. Natasha's cries grew more panicked and held more intensity as Bobby felt her walls spasm around him. He kissed her neck, cheeks and collarbone feverishly as her loud orgasm crept up on her. She whined inaudibly as it completed and Bobby freed his fingers from her grip. Natasha turned around to face him and she noticed the rod standing at attention stuck between his legs. She turned off the water slowly and the silence added to the passion between the two. Natasha kept his gaze as she used his biceps to support her to her knees. Once she was positioned, she put the wet dick between her lips. Bobby looked down on her with his lips slightly parted. She moved her lips down his distance end to end and she felt Bobby matching her strokes. His hips bucked minimally at the same time Natasha moved her head. She stopped for a moment and Bobby became the only one moving. He continued his actions and sped up his pace increasingly. Once he had a stable rate he reached for the shower's wall with a hand spread wide. He hissed out sounds of pleasure as his muscles tensed vaguely. Soon he had begun slowing down and he slipped his cock out of her lips without warning and it made a deep sucking sound simultaneously. He stroked his dick over her face and she held her eyes shut tight. His seed exploded from its starting place and fell in a vertical line across Natasha's profile. Another spurt had fallen on her chest and the color contrast was exotic to him. She rinsed herself off, rewashed her face and got out of the shower to leave Bobby by himself. He washed himself quickly knowing Cameron would be arriving at the gym soon. When he exited the steamy bathroom Natasha had already left. He put on his basketball shorts, sneakers and athletic sleeveless shirt right before he rushed out the door with his ball toward his BMW. He arrived to the gym's basketball room to find Cameron lacing up his sneakers on a nearby bench. Bobby joined him and waited patiently. Bobby hadn't played in awhile, and as he thought about the upcoming 1 on 1 game, he grew a rush of adrenaline. Their games could become so intense; both men hated to lose. Cameron and Bobby were somewhat the same in height, but their body structures gave them different advantages. Bobby being made of more muscle helped him block better but Cameron's swimmer body gave him unlimited speed. The points needed to win the game would increase every time the man in the lead crept too high. A 2 hour game could last until the gym closed. "What the hell took you so long?" Cameron asked in an irritated voice as he stood up from the bench and snatched the ball out of his hands. Bobby smirked behind his back as he retained information about the 15 minute session he held with Natasha in the shower that made him somewhat late. "You don't want to know." Bobby mumbled, getting up from his own seat on the bench to play. Cameron shot him a disgusted look and dribbled skillfully to half court. Bobby was feeling a little ambitious today and eyed the other half that was unusually free. "Full court." He said. Cameron turned around with an exasperated expression on his face. "Look, I'm not in the right state of mind to run this court back and forth." He complained. Bobby rolled his eyes at his friend's lack of cooperation. "Alright whatever. Half court for the little bitch." Bobby said, while he spotted himself in front of his friend. He dribbled a few times and then quickly jumped around Bobby. Cameron migrated toward the net only halfway before Bobby stole the ball from out of his hands and shot it quickly. It fell right into the net and he retrieved it with a smile. ********** "First to 45." Cameron said while he breathed heavily and extended the point maximum for the 3 time. Bobby was 10 points away and knew it wouldn't be too difficult to reach 45 within the next half hour. Cameron on the other hand was 23 points from winning and had begun to get flustered with himself. Bobby had the ball before him and dribbled offhandedly as Cameron studied him carefully. He progressed around Cameron but he followed him closely. Bobby didn't have an open shot and he knew he had to get closer. Cameron was sealed on him, and Bobby had to give him a subtle nudge on his arm to let him know he was breaking a few rules. Bobby executed a plan to make a perfect shot, even when Cameron's defense skills were top notch all of a sudden. Bobby ran towards the net and used his weight's drive to spring himself into the air. He dunked the ball right into the net and latched on for a few seconds. The force of his energy was much more than he expected, and it changed the weight of his body. He felt 3 times heavier and in result crashed back on the ground. He landed on his leg the wrong way and he knew it was certainly broken. Cameron was oblivious to his pain and offered him his hand indifferently. But Bobby took it wearily, unknowing of how badly it hurt. He stood on it, and he felt minimal pain. "I need to get to the emergency room before the adrenaline wears off." Bobby said, just barely limping. Cameron watched as he walked toward the exit and finally took in the sight. Bobby's entire foot was twisted outward, a bone beside his knee cap protruded and it had already commenced to swell. Cameron picked up his pace and followed him narrowly. They waited for the elevator to become available and when it did Bobby had started to feel some throbbing. "Can you call Natasha?" Bobby said with his eyes closed and his head resting on the wall behind him. He gave him the number and Cameron drove Bobby to the hospital. ***************** "Bobby Walton." Natasha said to the front desk assistant as she signed in. The emergency room's lobby had been filed to the highest capacity and she prayed that he wasn't still waiting. The bored woman searched a computer for his name. "Room 24." She said as she pointed down a hall. Natasha thanked her and traveled through the wheelchairs and white coats toward the room. She peeled back the curtain to reveal Bobby lying on the hospital bed and Cameron in the seat beside him. She looked at his purple, blue and yellow leg and her eyes grew wide. She walked up to the bed and stood beside him. His eyes followed her and he grew a sly smile. "What did you do to yourself?" Natasha whispered, eyeing him over one more time. His shirt was drenched in sweat. "I broke my leg; do you still think we can do something later? I was kinda' looking forward to it." Bobby said laughing. Natasha joined him and it felt weird for her to be amused in a hospital. People were getting surgeries and possibly dying, but here Bobby was lightening up the situation. "Well, since Natasha's here I think you're fine. Olivia's making meat loaf. Call me." Cameron said as he rose out of his seat. "Nice seeing you again. And tell Olivia I said hey." Natasha said, moving to take his chair. "Thanks man." Bobby said quietly. Just as he left, the doctor came in with an envelope in his palms. "Hello, I'm Dr. Kinslow -- nice to meet you." He said, reaching a strong hand out to shake Natasha's and Bobby's. He was a tall and handsome blonde haired man with bright blue eyes. "Alright. So it looks like..." He had begun to say, whilst he put the X-ray photos onto the bright light. "You completely broke the calf bone here." He said, while he dragged his index over the entire length of Bobby's calf. "You split a piece of your kneecap, that's the bulging fragment you see that's stretching the skin but not quite piercing through. And right above that is a fracture on the thigh. So you're pretty beat up." He said casually. Although the photos were in black and white, they were still graphic to Natasha. "So we're going to put you in a thigh high boot for two weeks. Now, there is to be no walking for you these first 2 weeks. After that, we'll give you a full out cast for another 4 weeks. After that you'll be fine." The doctor said. The rest of their visit to the emergency room consisted of a nurse explaining to them how to bathe and use his crutches. **************** "Can I get something to drink please?" Bobby asked from the couch. Natasha got up from her snuggled position beside him, to the kitchen. She poured him a cup of Canada Dry and entered the living room again. When she came into his view Bobby caught her eyes frantically. "Some chips too babe?" He almost shouted. Natasha walked back into the kitchen to get the barbeque chips over his fridge. She heard a big boom from the TV and she knew she missed something good from the war movie Bobby ordered. She quickened her pace and rushed back out to see what happened. She handed him the chips and put the cup beside his foot that rested on the coffee table. She got back in her position beside him while he noisily munched on chips. She changed her mind and decided to sit up to reduce the background noise. The characters were speaking about something important before they went to fight and she wanted to hear it. "Natty, can I get the drink?" He asked quietly. Natasha reached over to the cup skillfully keeping her eyes on the TV while she handed it to him. He thanked her. Natasha didn't mind catering to Bobby while he was disabled, but she wondered how he would take care of himself when she went back to work. She thought to take a few days off, or come home early but she figured it still wouldn't be enough to properly care for him. ************************ Natasha opened the door to Bobby's apartment with groceries in tow. She kicked off her shoes and walked toward the kitchen hastily, trying to rid herself of the heavy bags. All the lights were own and she figured Bobby was in the bedroom as he had been restricted to stay for the past 4 days. She placed the bags onto the dining room table and picked out a few of its contents to put them away. Bobby ate so much she was finding herself needing to go to the grocery store almost every other day. "You have a key?" The familiar snide voice asked from the kitchen with a tone so nasty and inappropriate it could've only been one person. Natasha put on a fake smile and turned around to greet the accent. "Hey Gina. Nice to see you again." Natasha said, completely avoiding her question. "Hi... since when do you have a key? I thought ya'll just got back together?" Gina asked. She was sticking her nose in places it didn't belong. Natasha's personal relationship with Bobby was just that; personal. "I've always had it. Are you cooking something?" Natasha asked, while she put a half gallon of milk into the fridge, unaffected by her presence. Gina was standing beside a skillet that sizzled near her. "Yeah. " Was all she said. "Do you need help with something?" Natasha asked sincerely. "Cut these onions." She said incoherently as she turned to face the skillet again. Natasha rolled her eyes at the lack of the 'please' or a question mark ending on her sentence. Natasha thought, as she got her tear ducts prepared to be squeezed of every ounce of liquid they contained. She approached the counter behind Gina, and took in the 4 large onions sitting alone on the counter and she almost groaned aloud. She grabbed a cutting board and knife and began to chop. "How's everyone doing?" Natasha asked, trying to make small talk. "Fine. How's your family doing? Bobby told me he met them awhile ago." "They're fine too. And yeah, we all had dinner." "Mhm, thank you for my gift as well. I never got to tell you." She said mundanely. "I'm glad you liked it, I had trouble picking it out since I had never met you before." "Are you allergic to anything? I made a spicy peanut butter dressing for the chicken. Bobby requested it." "Nope, I'm not." Natasha said, happy she had the courtesy to ask. Her eyes had begun releasing streams of tears down her cheeks as she diced her 2 onion. "Good... Natasha you know what?" Gina said. She turned her body to face Natasha and she did the same. "I think you're alright for my grandson. In the beginning, I was very skeptical about you. You had a high maintenance quality about you, and I didn't want Bobby to be behind it. Plus Bobby had only brought 1 other girl to meet me and she broke. As soon as I started asking her questions she shut down and I never saw or heard from her again. But you stuck up for yourself in a respectful manner and, I like that. Although I do think you let your surroundings effect you too much." Natasha thought about her words and decided to question her about it a little more but left the stuck up quality alone. Bringing that up couldn't end well for anyone. "Well thank you. But what do you mean by being affected my by surroundings?" "I mean, you can't let things ride. Things will happen, people will talk and not all of it will be beneficial. But if you continuously react and be affected by it you'll damage yourself. I noticed you were getting disturbed with my questions at the table -- however you controlled it on the outside. But I bet you felt terrible about it on the inside, even after the dinner. Hm? " "Yeah, I did." Natasha admitted. "If you had the ability to brush it off the time you noticed my actions were bothering you, you wouldn't have still been thinking about it on the way home." Gina said in a way that was somewhat thoughtful with a dash of her classic offensiveness. "Natty!" Bobby called from the bedroom in the exact same way a little boy would call for his mother after a nightmare. Except, Natasha wasn't his mother and the next best thing should've been his grandmother. Gina gave her a hard stare before she turned around to face the food once again. Natasha was cursing Bobby for his needy action, and the preference of her over his grandmother. She cautiously walked out of the kitchen, noticing Gina's attitude change. Natasha closed the bedroom door behind her and her eyes grew wide at the mess she had left this morning. There were a pair of her panties left in the corner, right beside a pair of his boxers, a used condom wrapper hiding on the dresser and unused ones hanging out of the drawer. She hurried to clean up for the sake of his grandmother and the remote possibility of a better relationship with her. Once she was finished she sat on the corner of the bed, right beside his good leg. "Why are you crying?" Bobby asked with distress bulky in his voice. She laughed delicately. "I'm not, I was cutting onions." "Oh. I'm sorry about the surprise visit. She called, I told her I broke my leg and she insisted she come see me." Bobby said. "No it's fine... How you feel?" Natasha asked sympathetically. She could only imagine how terrible it must feel to be locked in the house all day. Especially being as athletic and proactive as he was previously. But she was silently glad to have his grandmother around to help with his requests while she wasn't here. "Bad." Was all he said, and his bottom lip stuck out nonchalantly. "Is something hurting? You need some medicine?" She said. She had already started rising from the bed. "I need to fuck." He started, with the most pained expression and whining voice she had ever heard or seen on an adult. She couldn't help but laugh at his silliness and upbeat attitude, even in his conditions. But he didn't seem to think it was funny. "Seriously. I finally get to fully make love to you and the same day I break a leg!" He said too loudly. "Bobby shut up! Your grandma might hear you. I don't want to give her any other reason to hate me." Natasha said, rolling her eyes at no one and mumbling toward the end of the sentence. "She'll really hate you when I tell her you won't take care of me." He said playfully again. "I am taking care of you. Just not in the ways you want. No sex until you get the cast, easy enough?" She asked, while rising up from the bed and over toward him. He looked up at her with big eyes pleading for more intimacy. She vowed to herself she'd spend some quality time with him later tonight and keep him company. She bent down to kiss him delicately on his soft lips, but he took it too far. His strong hands gripped her hips and the kiss lasted longer than she expected. She realized how neglected she felt and foolishly kissed him back. Bobby parted her lips with his tongue and caressed her warm hole busily. He discontinued the kiss to lay kisses on the brown tops of her breasts that spilled out over her blouse as she bent to his level on the bed. When Natasha opened her eyes to watch him but she couldn't help but let her eyes gravitate in the direction of that ugly, beige boot nestled on his entire leg. She felt like she was having sex with a hurt patient in a hospital. She frowned in disgust with herself and found the strength to pull out of his grip. She disregarded the loud sucking sound left in the air after she pulled her tits away from his opening. Bobby's thick, long dick was evident through his shorts while she headed in the direction of the door. His face was so stricken and he looked completely confused. The swiftness of the entire action had him puzzled. "Natasha what the fuck?" He boomed. Natasha could tell he was really irritated with her and she smiled at him remorsefully. She felt dreadful for being such a tease. "I need your pu-"Natasha closed the door before he finished his sentence and she leaned her back alongside it in exhaustion. Her core was pulsing and she nearly walked back into the bedroom to finish what she started, but just as rapidly went against it. She prayed Bobby would be up and walking soon because even she was starting to be overcome by their sexual tension. **************** "Don't eat him! Run little baby buffalo!" Natasha chanted to the TV in Bobby's bedroom. "That wolf is way too fast. He's gonna' eat his tiny ass, sorry babe." Bobby said from behind her. They were watching National Geographic Wild and a tiny baby buffalo got separated from the herd by a big grey wolf. Natasha was on the edge of the bed, screaming for the animal whilst Bobby awaited his death. The little calf ran down a hill too quickly and lost his footing clumsily. This was when the wolf crept up swiftly and took a big nip of his bottom. That stopped the calf completely and the battle was over. Natasha sat for a moment, totally upset. The thing with Nat Geo wild was that it wasn't Animal planet. And for some reasons she loved that, and others like this, she hated it. NatGeo was so much more explicit but had far better footage, and Animal planet was upbeat yet focused on humans owning animals much more often. "Natty, there's a 30 anniversary banquet next month for work. You gonna' be my date?" He asked. "Of course baby. Is it supposed to be a really fancy, high class type of thing?" Natasha asked. "Yeah I guess." Natasha knew she'd have to save up for it, starting with her next paycheck. She wanted to look good and Bobby's arm as they walked in together and all of his filthy rich co-workers scrutinized her and the company she owned. And accomplishing this would never be cheap. "I'll get you everything you need for it, so don't worry about the money." Bobby said. "I can pay for it." She said sternly. "Come on; let me pay for this 1 thing. In the 4 months we've been together, I've never bought you anything." Natasha knew from his tone of voice, this was something he wasn't going to give up. So the easiest way was to give in. But Natasha wasn't surrendering entirely. "No more than 200 dollars Bobby." "200 dollars?! That won't even pay for the damn -- whatever. 200, alright... How was work today?" Bobby asked. Natasha moved backwards, in the direction of the headboard and laid beside Bobby before she spoke. "It was fine. I put an Ad in the paper for an assistant last week and Kelly has been getting a lot of phone calls. But the interviews are tomorrow. After them I'll probably come home early and we can hang out." Natasha said casually. Bobby turned his head downwards and onto Natasha who. He was smiling delicately and his black eyes watched her romantically. Bobby rapidly turned and reached for his crutches beside the bed. He carefully moved his good leg to the ground followed by the bad one. Once he was stable on the ground, he made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Natasha was left with the feeling of excitement in her pit. The gaze he had given her was so full of lust and yearning, she was somewhat glad he ended it. Natasha looked back at the bathroom door and wondered how long he'd be in there. Then she considered how long it would take her to pleasure herself. She decided to test it out and she hastily moved her fingers to her panties under the comforter. She thought. She gently rubbed her clit and she was drenched. She concluded she didn't have any time to waste with building up an orgasm; she needed her release as fast as it could come. Her 3 fingers moved without delay in a horizontal motion against her sex. Visualization kicked in and she replayed the night she and Bobby had their first true moment in bed. The scene of him pounding her from behind and causing her breasts to bump her chest uncontrollably filled her mind behind her eyelids. Just 1 minute later the bathroom door opened and Bobby turned a little to cut off the light. Natasha stopped completely in her tracks and tried not to move her hands under the sheets. Bobby made his way back to the bed and lay down beside her. He looked into her eyes, but he narrowed them instead of the passionate gaze he had done before. "What?" She mumbled at the same time Bobby ripped the covers off her lower half in one progress. He laid his eyes on the sight of Natasha's panties around her knees, fingers still within reach of her womanhood and her swollen, wet folds. "Natasha..." He pleaded in a shocked voice. His eyes never left her body and he looked so disappointed. "If you don't want to take care of me, at least let me take care of you." He whispered. "Bobby, I do want to take care of you. But I don't want to hurt you while doing it." "There are still ways we can do it without involving my leg." He said. He leaned forward to kiss her powerfully. Natasha was thoughtful for a moment. She couldn't wait another week and a half for his cast to be put on. Riding him wouldn't require him to do much. "If anything hurts, tell me." Bobby knew he wouldn't tell her, but he just nodded to shut up her up and get the sex started. Natasha didn't know why she had forgotten Bobby's grandmother sleeping on the pull out couch outside the bedroom but she remembered then. "Your grandma is in the living room." She mumbled. "She's a heavy sleeper." Bobby replied. Natasha took a moment to listen to the rough, throat drying snores coming from the other room. Bobby took off his shorts and showcased his growing erection that was beckoning for Natasha's attention. Natasha wasted no time covering his leg with the black sheet right after his cock was within view; the two sights just didn't sit well with her. Natasha straddled him carefully on the bed. He slipped the contraceptive over his dick in a fluid motion beneath her and his fingers brushed her nether regions minimally. He led the tip in and removed his hands to watch it enter. Natasha lustfully called out as she sat on his size and he stretched her accordingly. She took languid strokes and Bobby reached his hands up to cup her bobbing breasts. He manipulated them in his hands delicately and Natasha's eyes trembled closed when his jagged thumb brushed over her soft yet solid nipples. Natasha's thrill came to life and the motion picked up enthusiasm. Bobby gripped her hips with one hand and bent her back with the other. She took the hint to lean over his torso and continue her proceedings. When their heads were side by side, Natasha's ass was the only thing that bounced feverishly. Bobby let his eyes wander over her shoulder so he could watch. The pillow under Bobby's head helped to muffle her groans of pleasure. Bobby's hands found their way to her bottom and he held on firmly while her lower back worked to keep her ass pumping on him. His violent squeeze on her cheeks sent her over the edge and she slowed down whilst her climax was delivered. Natasha's back hunched upward in satisfaction and her walls compressed around him roughly. Her crazed pussy's insides locked onto him and he had no alternative but to join her in orgasm. He rumbled in a bass voice before he let his hands clutch even tighter on her ass. Natasha's pained moan filled his ears and intensified the release. ************** "So what made you want to apply for this position?" Natasha asked Felicia, a woman she was interviewing to be her new assistant. Felicia was a Native American woman born in Canada and seemed to have all of the qualifications she was looking for. "I love what it is you're trying to accomplish here, and I'd be happy to assist in any way." She said professionally. The girl was perfect but she lacked the strength to withstand the emotional toll this job would require. "Wonderful. Well thank you for your time." Natasha said as she closed her portfolio and resume. They were in a small conference room with only 2 seats. Felicia surprised Natasha when she reached across the table robotically to shake her hand. "Thank you Ms. Ellis." She said. Kelly would be bringing in the next person interested in the job within the next few seconds and Natasha still didn't know who she'd be offering it to. She had seen over 19 people and they seemed boring, weak or completely clueless as to what this job was requiring. All of these unwanted qualities would make the job that much more difficult for them tackle head on. Kelly walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She held a folder with pastel colored tabs in it. Natasha looked at her, baffled when she sat down in the seat opposite her. Kelly only smiled and then proceeded to hand her the binder. "Good morning Ms. Ellis. I'm Kelly Ortiz." She said laughing, as she extended her hand for Natasha to shake. If Kelly wanted this job, than she'd have to act just like anyone else that would be interviewed; she didn't know Natasha. "Good morning." Natasha said while she opened the binder to unveil the organized resume with the faint scent of flowers bursting out and hitting her nose. She didn't know Kelly had so much experience with being an assistant until she glanced at her references. "Tell me about why you'd prefer this job over your current job." Natasha asked. "I can do it. I have plenty of understanding about being an assistant and I already know most of the things that need to be done." Kelly said. Natasha had to admit; hiring Kelly would lessen the training time and reduce the chance of errors in her first few months of working with the new arrangement. Training another receptionist to replace her could be done in a matter of days. "Kelly, you need to be tough for this. Sometimes I may get a little angry or frustrated and take it out on you. Not as bad as they do on TV but still enough to hurt those who can't take it. Plus you'll need to be alert even out of the office." Natasha explained. She had just ordered 2 Black Berries for her and her new assistant to share. An email could come at anytime of the day. "I know you, I know how you get. " Kelly said. Natasha sat thoughtful for a minute, before meeting her eyes and giving her a devious smile. "You start next week. Ask anyone out there if they want a receptionist place." Natasha said while laughing. As Kelly stood Natasha could tell she had gotten dressed up a little for her interview. There was so much relief planted within Natasha as she sat in the chair. She was so glad Kelly was interested in the job; she was a good worker and would help Natasha in so many ways. *********************** "Hi I'm Bobby, I'm coming in with my girlfriend to pick out a dress in about 45 minutes. And I need to set up a plan with someone in the store." Bobby premeditated outside of Natasha's house. He was waiting for her to finish getting dressed so they could shop for the dress she'd wear to the banquet. "What kind of plan?" The woman asked on the other line. "She's really frugal. And I want her to get something she wants therefore no limitations on the price. Can everything somehow be 75% off in her world? I'll pay for the difference; I just want everything she wants to be at aa reasonable price for her." Bobby asked. "Of course, that's very sweet of you. When you come in, just say your name to one of the women in the store and they'll already know your story." She said, and Bobby could tell she was smiling. "Thank you." He said right before he hung up. He walked toward the BMW slowly. He already had his cast on for over 2 weeks and it was rejuvenating for him to be able to walk again. He refused on using the crutches and had given them back to the hospital, even though they insisted that he should still depend on them. He sat in the passenger's seat, patiently waiting for Natasha to exit. When she did, she sat in the driver's seat and the car backed out into traffic. "How's Kelly doing?" Bobby asked, remembering she had a new assistant start last week. He was glad she had some extra help with her job. "She's great. Very helpful." Natasha said, as the Black berry that rested in the sup holder buzzed loudly between them. Bobby gave it a hard eye roll before turning his attention back out the window. He thought, letting her new associate go unnoticed in their conversation. **** "Hi I'm Bobby." He said to a tall black haired woman while he shook her hand. She smiled back at him and the way she did it hinted she was in on the plan. "Natasha." She said to the woman with a smile. The store was very tasteful with an extravagant feel. That was the exact the environment she wanted to be in to look for a dress. "I'm Candy. What are we looking for today?" She said, directing the couple to a love seat that had a single armchair in front. Bobby sat and instantaneously had the stance of someone at home. His arm was on the back of the chair behind Natasha's head and his cast was extended across the floor. Candy took the seat and flipped her waist length hair over one shoulder in a motion that caused it to suspend in the air for a half a second. Natasha rolled her eyes at the unneeded action. "I need a dress that's supportive" Natasha started, and motioned toward her large D cup breasts. "And that's not too tight around my butt." Bobby flashed her quick look. "Well... some tight is good though." He suggested, staring at Natasha who was focused on Candy. "What style were you looking for?" She asked. "Either a strapless or one shoulder. No ball gown type of thing." She started and then took another moment to think on a better description. "Very solid colors and nothing too bright." "Price range?" "Under 300." "No problem, especially considering everything is 50 to 75 percent off today and tomorrow." Candy said smiling. "We have what you need. I'll pick some out based on what you just said and you can sit on the other couch beside the dressing room." Candy said, pointing to the back of the room. Bobby got up and waddled over to the other couch to continue his relaxation. Natasha followed him while she waited for Candy to come back. Candy appeared with 2 dresses and Natasha had risen out of her seat to try them on. Another woman followed her closely with large clothes pins. "I'm going to keep looking for dresses, just so we can keep the flow going. Rita is going to pin up excess fabric that would be tailored to fit you before the date." Candy said while she handed Rita the dresses. Natasha's first dress was a dark blue strapless dress that's material was very shiny. The texture was smooth and glossy; she didn't like it. She carefully stepped on the pedestal framed with full length mirrors beside the couch Bobby sat on. Her breasts bounced wildly over the cups, the beading below the bust looked artificial and the fabric showcased ever imperfection her body owned. "You like it?" Natasha asked the mirror that reflected Bobby's frame on the couch behind her. "No, but I do like the top." He grumbled quietly enough for only them to hear. She laughed at his honesty. *** Natasha stepped out in the 4 dress. It was a pea green green with an incredibly matte fabric. This allowed the fabric to adjust to the curves she wanted it to, and it did just that. The thick strap began on the right bra cup but wrapped across her upper chest and around her left shoulder. There were light jewels starting at her breasts and faded down to her mid thigh. But loose fabric tapered out lightly around the knees, giving her a mermaid look. "I love this." She whispered to herself. The same moment she focused on the dress itself and not on the mirror, Bobby tossed Candy his MasterCard and quickly refocused his attention on Natasha. "You look beautiful." He said to her. "How much is it?" Natasha asked. She had her money planned out and if this dress hadn't fit into her budget, she wouldn't get it. "750 before the reduction, but currently 250." Candy said confidently. Natasha squealed for joy at her bargain. ** "Do you need heels?" Candy asked as they took the dress to the register. Natasha looked over toward the shoes section and saw her worst enemy; heels. She hadn't worn heels all her life and she didn't plan on starting with that banquet. "I didn't have plans on wearing heels." Natasha muttered. "What?" Candy asked in astonishment. "Why not?" Bobby asked her softly, forgetting the woman's reaction. He looked down into her brown eyes while Candy rung up the dress. "I've never worn them. And they make me too tall." Natasha said. She was already 5'7, adding 4 inch heels would have her one of the tallest women at the banquet. She hated to embrace her height. "You sure? I'll still be taller than you." "Yeah I'm sure. Plus I'll want to be comfortable too." "Well thank you for choosing us. I hope you enjoy your night." Candy said to the couple. "Thank you." Natasha said as she took her dress off the counter and headed toward the door. While her back faced the register, Candy handed Bobby his card and in return he slipped her a 20 dollar bill with a mouthed 'Thank you.' Before he followed Natasha to the car. *************** "Tammy can I talk to you for a minute." Bobby said as he approached her cubicle. She was typing fiercely on her computer. When he opened his mouth her head snapped up straight away. Her hair was reaching a little past her shoulder blades now and she was putting on more weight. The two hadn't spoken since the incident in Bobby's car and he had a few things to say to her now. He had no choice but to approach her desk because he didn't know her extension to give her a call. He came in to get some work off his desk so he was still dressed casually. Bobby didn't want his labor piling up too much while he was on leave. He led Tammy back to his office and she sat in the chair across from his desk while he closed the door behind him. "What happened?" She said, pointing to his black cast. "I was playing ball and I broke my leg. But I wanted to apologize about... that night. I shouldn't have done that to you and I'm sorry." Bobby said sincerely, she nodded in acceptance. "It's alright." She said shrugging. "Well, I'm sure you're going to the banquet and I'll be there too... with my girlfriend. And I'm asking you not to mention anything about that night to her if you do see her..." Bobby asked. All of his wishful thinking was laced in his voice and he hated to sound too desperate. Tammy was surmounted with the evident control she had over him. Bobby's hands were clasped together on his desk and he held Tammy's gaze dreadfully. She smiled devilishly and Bobby knew she'd do whatever the hell she wanted. "Is that the reason you decided to apologize?" She laughed. "No—" She cut him off before he could finish. "I can't promise anything Bobby. I'm sorry things ended how they did, but consequences come with it." She said, and she stood up from her seat. "Good luck." She whispered. Tammy smoothed out her skirt, flipped her hair out of her eyes and let her heels clack while she walked out of his office with a freshly established confidence. "Fuck." Bobby said to himself once he was alone. *********************** "So why are you two getting your hair done? I keep forgetting how this happened." She asked her friends who sat in the stylist chairs in front of her. Summer and Olivia were supposed to be joining her for opinionated reasons only, but they seemed to be convincing themselves to purchase things along the way. They had all gotten manicures and pedicures, a new pair of shoes and now they were getting their hair done together. They had been out since 10 AM and as 5:30 PM crept up, they were nearly finished. "Why not? If we're here waiting for you, might as well join you." Summer said as she got her blonde locks curled tightly. Natasha's chair was turning toward the mirror and she came into view of a beautiful fishtail braid stuck to the left side of her head and continuing around to the middle of her head. That's where it connected with a full bun while curled fly away pieces hung at her edges and 1 at her nape. Her side swept bang was smooth and trimmed above her brow. And it was the exact look she was going for. "Oh girl..." Natasha whispered to her stylist enthusiastically at the same moment she got out the chair and approached the mirror to inspect closely. "You like it?" She asked, with her wild red hair in a big mane around her face. "Hell yeah! This is stunning!" "Come on so I can ring you up baby." The stylist said as she walked to her small register by the door. "It's 90." She handed her Bobby's debit card and she swiped it quickly. Natasha was happy she hadn't gone over her 200 dollar limit with her nails and hair combined, but what she didn't know was that she had gone way over the limit with the 750 dollar dress he bought her. "Gorgeous Tash." Summer called from behind her. "Thanks. I'm gonna' get my makeup done at Sephora. Meet me over there when ya'll get done. The banquet starts in an hour and I'm running kinda behind." She said as she checked her cell phone's text messages. Bobby had texted her just a few minutes ago about the obvious. ******************* "Natasha, I believe in being fashionably late but this—"Bobby started as he fixed the cuffs of his tuxedo. Natasha had appeared from the bathroom and stopped him in his tracks. Her milk chocolate skin had a golden shade, her makeup gave her face an airbrushed look and her big eyes were rimmed in long lashes. Her lips were simple in a nude lipstick and topped with a mouth watering gloss. Natasha had a hard time keeping her eyes off of Bobby as well. He was lean and handsome in an all black tux that made him look like a giant. His short curls were slicked back in a style that looked like it could be on the main character of an Italian drug dealing movie. His large gold watch only added to his sophistication and she wanted to give him a quick rub down before they left. Plus that god awful cast was gone. The happiest person to see it go was probably Natasha because they went straight home to consummate the leg with heart pounding sex from behind. But Bobby was feeling a hint of apprehension. He didn't know what Tammy would say to Natasha when she saw her, but it was almost certain she would say He had no choice but to ride it out because the appropriate time to warn her had been well passed, and telling her now would only make the matters worse. "You look so good." Natasha whispered, as she drew him near and let her long French tips roam over his blazer. He looked down on her in absolute lust while his hands wrapped around her waist plus rubbed against the fabric of her dress that hugged the contours of her bottom. Bobby was so excited to show off his exotic, beautiful and intelligent woman to everyone he could that night. She stood up some more to get some contact with his lips but he didn't meet her halfway. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he kissed her then. "I have a surprise for you afterward. But right now we have to go." He said, and he led her toward the door of his apartment. ********** Natasha didn't know what was prevailing over her, but she felt like Beyonce going to the Grammy's as she stepped out of the BMW with the guidance of Bobby's firm hand. The classy building had twinkling lights outside and the valet drove off behind them as she looped her arm through Bobby's and he took her into the ball room. "You look striking by the way." He said down upon her as they ventured through front door. The venue was blindingly white. The floors, walls, drapery, large chandelier in the middle of the room and table cloths were shrinking her pupils. On both sides of the room were two large winding staircases that reached up above them. The round tables had name cards in front of each seat and Bobby seemed to know where there's would be. A live band played from the face of the room, positioned in front of large floor to ceiling length windows that put out a great view of the city. A few danced in front of the stage but most people stood mingling. "Bobby!" Someone called behind them. Bobby turned and there was an older bald man walking toward them with a young blonde on his arm. Her dress was a light pink that made her over tanned body shine. But her large breasts were scraping her neck and the big cut out piece on the side of her dress was hardly tasteful. "Hey Ron, I didn't think you'd be here. This is my girlfriend Natasha, Natasha this is my co-worker Ron." Bobby introduced them. Ron held his hand out for Natasha to shake and she did so with a smile. "Nice to meet you beautiful -- beautiful." He said. Natasha admitted to herself; that was inappropriate. Especially considering the fact that his girlfriend/ daughter stood beside him. The blonde woman didn't seem to be phased by his somewhat restrained flirtation or the fact that he didn't introduce her. "Thank you." Bobby and Natasha said in harmony although Natasha's statement was laced in hesitation while annoyance was substantial in his. "Yeah but, I decided I'd show my face tonight. The Mustang just got out the detail shop earlier today and I needed an excuse to drive her out." Ron said shrugging. Natasha was in her right mind to excuse herself from his palpable bragging. It was her number one pet peeve and she knew he was familiarized with doing it. "How long have you two been dating?" The blonde woman decided to ask. Her eyes were a piercing blue and Natasha had a hard processing her question as she watched her. "Um, 5 months. Almost 6." Bobby said. Natasha was questioning if they would start over with their month counting since their break up. But Bobby kept hinting they would start off where they left off and she never opposed. "Oh great, how'd you meet?" She asked again. "In the grocery store." Natasha laughed. "Champagne?" A waiter asked from beside Natasha. They held 4 glasses on their tray and Natasha took one carefully and thanked him peacefully. "What do you do Natasha?" Ron asked while taking a sip of his champagne. She couldn't help but notice the large gold band on his ring finger that sparkled due to the small diamonds inside. She promptly looked at the blonde's hand to find a large diamond on hers as well. But these two never seemed interested in the conversation together; when 1 is speaking the other wasn't paying attention. There was strong negative tension between them and it made Bobby uncomfortable. "I'm an environmental ethics lawyer." She said. "Oh, at the... Iron Firm? I believe that's the title." Ron said thoughtfully. Natasha was overjoyed he even knew what it was, let alone the name. "She owns it." Bobby said proudly. Natasha shot him a look; a clear signal he needed to humble himself. He wasn't as stuck up as this banquet seemed to require you to be. But Bobby was just too caught up in his pride for her to stop himself. "Oh really? Impressive. What kind of work do you do?" He asked again. "I set up cases, sometimes I represent people and I train employees." Natasha said. "How long does typical training take?" The blonde asked. "Depending on how much they know, on average 5 months." Natasha replied. The blonde opened her mouth to speak again but a louder voice spoke before her. Natasha pivoted to see the stage and an older woman who held the microphone to her lips. "Good evening everyone. Dinner will be served in a matter of minutes, so if you could have a seat..." She began. Everyone progressed to their assigned spot and Bobby followed Natasha back to their table. He held out her seat then slid into his own. "Thank you all for attending this anniversary banquet. Tonight we celebrate the success of our work, the support of our people and Wilson Graham -- the founder of this company. Enjoy." She said before she walked offstage and back to her seat close by. The band played hushed music and people chatted quietly whilst waiters and waitresses brought plates of food. "What kind of strings did you have to pull to get us sitting at the same table?" A voice asked from behind them. Bobby smiled as they came into view and took the two empty seats in front of them. The Asian couple were smiling merrily and very well dressed. "This is Thomas and his wife Wendy. This is my girlfriend Natasha." Bobby said, revealing he knew his wife before tonight. "Nice to meet you." The couple said in unison and then laughed about their jinx. They were insanely cute together and it made Natasha grin. That couple was a breath a fresh air in comparison to Ron and the Unknown Blonde. Their food appeared and Natasha was stricken by the artistically set plate before her. It was a hearty slice of salmon on a bed of herbs and a savory sauce precisely drawn around the plate. A crab cake beside carrots and broccoli sat beside the salmon. "Do you like it? I had to pick it out at the last minute. I knew you liked fish." Bobby said beside her. "No this is perfect." She said, picking up her fork. ********* "Excuse me." Natasha said as she got up from her seat and left the 3 of them to joke without her. Wendy and Thomas were hilarious together and Natasha understood why Bobby wanted them to be seated at the same table. Natasha took her clutch with her to the fancy ladies room. She relieved herself in the stall and flushed behind her. When she walked up to the counter with intentions of washing her hands, the door opened and let in a woman with shoulder length red hair and a skin tight black dress. She looked at Natasha's reflection in the mirror and began to speak. "Are you Natasha?" She asked happily. She moved to stand on the other side of the counter in front of the second sink. "Yes I am." She replied wearily. "Oh! I'm Tammy. It's so great you and Bobby are back together and everything. Many people have a hard time with trust after their partner has made a mistake or something. It's a gift that you can get past it. Ya' know?" She asked with a smile. Natasha turned off the water and roughly shook her hands in the sink to free herself of excess water. "Pardon me?" She asked, facing Tammy's shrewd yet joyful face. Natasha was trying to remember Gina's words and apply them to this moment, but it was hard to hold her emotions back on the inside and on the outside too. This woman wanted a reaction and better yet, she wanted the result to affect her relationship with Bobby. Tammy brought her hand up to her open mouth in shock. "You didn't know? Oh God, I am so sorry. I thought Bobby would've told you by now." She said. "You might as well tell me now since you brought it up." Natasha said casually, putting one hand on her hip and using the other to support her weight on the sink. "It wasn't much of anything. A month or so ago, he took me out for dinner and I did some things but not thing." She said, reaching into her purse for her lipstick. "Well, good thing we weren't together then huh?" Natasha said, taking on that cheerful attitude Tammy carried as she walked in. "And I'm sure you never got that phone call or the rapport with him you had been expecting afterward either. Although... I did. Have some more respect for yourself Tammy. You're approaching me about giving him head and in return him taking you out for ? Are you proud you got a meal for your services?" Natasha asked. She didn't know that statement had hurt more than she expected because Tammy didn't get the meal. She didn't even get the conversation or the attention she desired, but instead got rejected and embarrassed. Natasha waited for her to speak but she continued to put on her lipstick mechanically in the mirror. "And since you can't control yourself around Bobby, stay away from him. Feel free to take that as a warning because I won't be anything again. I keep my word and I only say it once." She growled, remembering the time she heard about her unexpected kiss. Natasha grabbed her clutch and left the bathroom to find Bobby leaning against the adjacent wall waiting for her exit. He was ringing his hands in worry and when she came out of the bathroom, he stood up right away and estimated her words. "We weren't together. There's nothing I can be angry about." Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. Gina was beyond right; Natasha felt no animosity toward Bobby or Tammy. Instead she wanted to get past the whole situation and forget. "Okay." He said with a big breath. His voice was shaky, skin colorless and a little sweat on his brow. He took small steps toward her but refocused his attention to the bathroom door that opened beside them. Tammy stepped out and barely gave them a glace before she stomped her heels down the hall and back into the ball room. Once she was out of sight Bobby sustained his progression toward her. "While I can be mad that you didn't tell me before we got here." Natasha said aggressively right before he inclined for her lips. "I know, I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't tell you earlier. I was a little scared." He said, frustrated with himself. Natasha was feeling very forgiving and it was probably the only reason why she'd let this slide. She still wanted to have a good night and her beyonce vibe was stable. Bobby took her hand and guided her toward the band's dance floor. A slow jazzy song filled the air and he confidently led her into his broad chest. Natasha gladly obliged and placed her hands on his biceps and laid her head on his breast while his arms twisted around her waist. He led them in a slow fixed circle and they danced in peace for a minute. "Are you sure you're okay?" Bobby asked with obvious skepticism in his tone of voice. Natasha's eyes rolled and she sighed in agitation. "If we keep talking about it I won't be; drop it." She warned him. It was all Bobby needed to leave the topic in the desert. Natasha didn't need to be hindered by reliving the short scene in the bathroom. Or the reality that he hadn't cautioned her in relation to it. "Okay, okay." He said. The Jazzy song dwindled to an end within another 30 seconds and the crowd clapped evenly. The band's leader's voice pulsed through the speakers and it was clear he wanted to hype the audience up. "Alright ladies and gentlemen, we're gonna' pick the tempo up a little bit." He said before he turned toward the band to signal the intro of the Electric Slide to be played to perfection. A thump of stimulation rushed through Natasha and Bobby could see it as he watched her with a small beam on his lips. He took a look around to come to the conclusion that Natasha would definitely be stared at closely. "Can you do the electric slide?" Natasha asked Bobby. He laughed nonchalantly. "Cameron taught me, hopefully I can remember it." He said. Natasha nodded and couldn't wait to see him sliding and stepping soulfully to the smooth music. As the intro ended, she and Bobby stood side by side and began to two-step in harmony. Natasha couldn't disagree that he had rhythm but based off the wide range of music he liked to listen to, it wasn't entirely startling. When they had to revolve their dance, Natasha ended up vertically behind Bobby. He snapped contentedly at his sides and continued his actions. He definitely looked good, particularly in that tuxedo. ********** "You two looked so good!" Wendy exclaimed as Bobby and Natasha sat back down at the table. Bobby and Natasha laughed lightly. "Thanks." Natasha replied. She looked at her champagne glass and revealed it was bare. There were no waiters around and she was too thirsty to wait. She retained information about seeing a bar in the corner of the room on the way to the bathroom and stood up to visit it. "Going to the bar." Natasha said quietly before she left the table. "You want me to go with you?" Bobby asked thoughtfully before she left. Natasha smirked down on him gently before she answered. "No honey, I'm okay." She said jokingly. Natasha wound through the people and followed the path to the bar. The room was so large; she was walking for about 3 minutes. When it came into view she picked up her pace with reassurance of her destination. When she was a foot away from the counter, she stopped in her tracks when she saw a large glass full of Mango Magic sitting on the counter. As she followed the body that stood behind it she was pained to see Terrance's face. His features were different from the last time they had seen one another; he was angry. Natasha walked up to the counter suspiciously and tried to take the drink that was clearly for her. But before she could get her hands on it, Terrance grabbed the base and moved it out of her reach. "You look beautiful." He said rigidly. "... Thanks. Look, can I get a drink?" She asked, not wanting to be facing him longer than essential. She scanned around the opposite side of the bar to see he was the only one there and the option of asking someone else to make her drink was impossible. "Anything for the sellout of course." He said coldly and kept her eyes locked. Natasha tried to use Gina's words of wisdom in situation too, but it was nearing unattainable "What?" She asked through clenched teeth. She couldn't believe what she was hearing especially from she was hearing it from. The man who had cheated on her with a blonde white woman and lied about it too. The double standards of the circumstances were almost comical. "You heard me Natasha. Is he buying you everything you want? — In exchange for a chance to fulfill his black fantasies?" He whispered, moving closer toward her over the counter. Natasha took a quick glance at her surroundings and knew there was absolutely no way to say what she wanted, how she wanted, without looking like a ghetto angry black woman. So she channeled her thoughts and walked away from the bar back into the direction of the table. Natasha took her time with her walk back and used it to morph back into the person she had been 5 minutes prior. She took her seat and she was grateful Bobby was deep into a deep exchange with Wendy and Thomas. "Well we're going to go, it's getting kinda' late." Bobby said suddenly. Natasha followed his lead without hesitation. "Nice meeting you Natasha." Wendy said. "Likewise to you both." She replied, trying to give them a heartfelt smile. Bobby walked swiftly out of the ball room and into the small lobby that was attached to the front door. His walking came to a hard end and he rotated to face her. The intensity in his eyes startled her and she gasped a little. "What happened?" He whispered. "Wh- Nothing happened." Natasha said, trying to be believable. He stared her down for a few more seconds before his hand reached for hers. Natasha was grateful she had become such a great actress all of a sudden because Bobby wouldn't take well to the truth about what was really bothering her. He showed the valet men his ticket and they called for the BMW. In a matter of seconds it was stopping before them and Bobby held her door for her courteously. She thanked him and swiftly sat down to find it was well past 12 o'clock. Now that the dinner was over, she was interested to know what the extraordinary surprise was that he had planned. When he past the exit out of the city, her inquisitiveness bubbled inside her with great strength. Bobby took note of her jitteriness and smiled beside her. "We're almost there." He said as he turned down a side street. When the car finally stopped after a mere 10 minutes, Natasha embraced the large 5 star hotel that could be no less than 100 dollars a night. She didn't wait for Bobby to open her door for her this time, and she stepped out full of exhilaration. The cool summer night only added to her emotions when goose bumps rose on her exposed arms. Bobby went to the rear of the car to retrieve a duffle bag that Natasha had no idea existed. Bobby came back to the sidewalk in front of the car and forcefully gripped Natasha's hip to lead her into his chest. The ferocity of the action whipped the breath out of her and left her lips slightly parted with a dazed look in her eyes. Bobby took advantage of his invitation and let their lips come into contact for the first time of the night. Natasha kissed him back tenderly and he let his free hand wander down the small of her back. Within less than a minute of persistent kissing, Natasha was feeling his erection on her lower stomach. She smiled sexily at his evident arousal. "Come on girl." He whispered as he led the way into the hotel lobby. This was one of the most luxurious hotels in Rhode Island and as they entered, it was practically written on the walls. The wealth hung from the ceilings and posed as beautifully structured furniture. Bobby had the hotel key and they were luckily on the first floor right behind the hotel's front desk. They walked purposefully down the halls and when the green light signaled they could enter, Natasha was the one to open the door. The bulky king size bed was coated in red petals that were illuminated by the ceiling light and lit up the bed specifically. To the left of the door was a small coffee table that held champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries that were abnormally big. Before Natasha could finish looking around the extravagant room, she was in Bobby's arms. He leisurely walked over in the direction of the bed and dropped her on it clumsily. She yelped in bliss as the bed punched below her and petals bounced around her face from the impact. Before she could refocus her attention back on Bobby, he was already striping his clothes with his bedroom eyes on her firmly. "Wait, wait. Can I get a minute or two?" Natasha asked, getting up to enter the bathroom. It had been a long day and she needed to clean up a little. "Alright. We can take a shower." He said, following her closely. Natasha snapped around to face him and block his way of the bathroom. "I just got my hair done tod—" Natasha started waving an index finger in his direction. But he angrily intercepted her words. "Damnit! Natasha hurry up." He mumbled, making his way back toward the bed. Natasha hurriedly brushed her teeth, thoroughly wiped her parts and undid her hair. Her bun left her with deep waves that fell in rivers down her shoulders. When she exited the restroom in her birthday suit, Bobby was in front of her with his hands at the back his head. His cock was lifeless between his legs. "Turn around for me." He whispered. Natasha slowly did a 360 and he groaned in approval. When Natasha finished her showcase, she crawled the length of the bed up near him. His eyes never left her and her eyes never left his dick. It had stiffened the slightest but grew even more when Natasha moved her fingers around it. Natasha kneeled between his thighs in addition to stroking him a few times in her hands and Bobby watched her big tits spring up from her action. "How was she?" Natasha asked him, while still facing his growing dick. Bobby waited a minute to answer her. "Nothing compares to those lips and nails." He said in a monotone voice. Natasha couldn't deny that his words made her feel like a high-quality dick sucker. But she'd try to show off a little tonight as well. His rod was at its full length and density in her hands and she moved to place her lips around it. Bobby's eyes quivered closed when her hot wet mouth found its way to his dick. She suckled on his mushroom top, removing all the pre cum down into her throat. After, she moved her way down his length and back up skillfully. Her lips covered her teeth as she bobbed her head. Bobby could feel the soft ridges of the roof of her mouth skimming his skin softly. He left his hands behind his head while Natasha worked her magic on his manhood. "Natasha -- Natasha." He said quietly before his hand reached for her face. She stopped sucking him and the look in his eyes was so caring and fragile she wondered if she had been sucking him off as well as she thought she was. "I love you. I'm love with you." He stated casually. Natasha could barely develop his words even though his black eyes pierced hers with unmistakable importance. "Wh—What?" She whispered faintly. "I said I loved you." He laughed quietly. "I love you too." She said before she climbed up his chest to reach for his lips. His hands massaged her smooth back and their chests pressed against one another while they engaged in a passionate kiss. He reached for his condom on the nightstand without leaving the kiss with Natasha. She took it from his hands and gently rolled it over his dick. When it was correctly in place he coiled his hands around her hips and placed her on her back. As she lay in the soft bed of petals, the softhearted look in his eyes was something she couldn't see past. He opened her legs soothingly and used his left hand to bear his weight on top of Natasha. He kept his watch on her as he used his free hand to channel his dick into her center little by little. She parted her lips the slightest to direct a small whimper into the open air. When he was certain he was inside, he let both arms share his weight equally. He conducted steady strokes that allowed her to take his entire length with time. Bobby kissed her dark chocolate nipples warmly and proceeded to nip on them while she moaned in his ears. "Harder baby." She whispered while eyeing the erotic sight between her legs. Bobby listened to his woman and pumped her with more force. Her breasts jumped wildly with each thrust inward he gave her. Natasha felt her walls press together as Bobby's grunts came as light breaths on her brow. She moved her hand onto her clit and smacked on it fiercely. The sound filled the room and before she knew what was happening within herself, she was groaning out like an angry animal. Bobby's brow furrowed and he pulled out in inquisitiveness to find Natasha's juices spurting hysterically from her hole. He didn't waste another minute and within an instant he was kneeling to capture her nectar. He groaned in pleasure as some of Natasha's liquids flowed from its source and over his jaws. He took to her gem and latched on to suckle it brutally. Natasha shuttered further up the bed and the movement shook it weakly. Bobby didn't need to ask Natasha to see she was exhausted. As he considered the day she had of shopping, dancing and talking; he wasn't surprised her eyes were fluttering closed after her powerful orgasm. He crawled up her body and kissed her lips to wake her. She gazed at him with half closed lids and a small smile on her full lips. "Part 2 tomorrow morning?" She asked in a raspy voice; a clear result from her rough screaming just a few seconds earlier. "Of course. Goodnight, I love you." He said, trying out the words again. Natasha's smile widened into one that broadcasted her teeth. "I love you too Bobby." She said, before he pulled the rose petal filled covers up over their bodies and they nestled into one another to bask in the 3 letter words that would change their relationship forever.

“Okay, its official, I will explode before this baby is born”. He thought to himself as he struggled to get out of the bed. He had put down thirty-one weeks of the pregnancy. Only another nine left, but looking down, he felt like he was full term. “Ugh” was all he managed to say as he got off the bed and onto his feet. He looked down, he had not seen his feet in weeks, but it still fascinated him just how much his stomach had grown. Though he had used the recommended products to prevent stretch marks, there was only so much they could do for the lithe frame carrying such a big bump. Derek hadn’t seemed to mind them; he had taken to kissing along each and every mark, telling Spencer it was a sign of their wonderful son growing. A sign of how they created something so beautiful. “God he is nauseatingly romantic” the young man thought to himself, though he smiled widely as he made his way to the bathroom. As he walked into the kitchen, Spencer realised he could no longer open the cutlery drawer while standing between it and the counter, he bit into his bagel and realised he was crying. He cursed his hormones. A small kick brought him back to the present. “I’m not talking to you right now, you have my hormones all over the place and have me crying, and that’s not nice for daddy when he has to be to the hospital for a check-up.” There was no response this time, and though he was not going to admit it, Spencer was slightly scared. He knew there was a lot less room for the baby to move around now, but he had noted the kicks had dropped a good bit in frequency. He knew he would have to mention it today at the hospital, he just hoped against hope that Garcia wouldn’t over react, though being a Vegas man, he already knew the odds and they were not in his favour. He decided, thinking of his home town that he was going to visit his mother before he became unable to fly. He had kept in constant contact with his mother as per usual, and her doctors to ensure she was adapting to the news of her impending grandson, but with everything with work, Derek, and preparing for the baby he just hadn’t made it to Vegas and it was bothering him. He had wanted to have introduced his mother and Derek before now. He knew that if they waited for the baby to be born and old enough to travel, her meds may not be as effective or they would have changed the dosages or prescriptions by then, meaning she would be unpredictable and a danger to his son. He had accepted the chances of him getting schizophrenia by now were as close to non-existent as you could get, but it still irked him that he was passing on the potential for the disease to his son. The risks were low. Lower than that for heart attacks, cancers, and other diseases, so he shouldn’t worry, and if his son did get that particular curse, he would still love him, even if he felt guilty for being the reason for it. But one thing working with the BAU taught Spencer, never live life for the ‘what ifs’. It was too short. He heard a knock on the door as he was about to fight with his converse shoes to get them on his slightly swollen feet. Though it was not the swelling of his ankles and feet that were the problem, it was his blasted stomach. He got up and let Garcia in, she immediately looked at the man, with his teary eyes and holding the black shoe in his hand. “Sit.” He obeyed and she put on the shoes, “Boy Wonder, it is time to contemplate just wearing trainers every day.” “Never.” He pouted. “It’s the best thing to keep you stress free and you know it.” He pouted but resigned himself to the fact his friend was right. “I really like my converse.” “I know, but only nine more weeks left. And then my gorgeous nephew will be here.” She squeaked loudly. “Oh I am so excited. Let’s get going, we don’t want to be late.” “Okay, help me up.” As he struggled to his feet once more, Garcia could not help but notice how much trouble Spencer was having doing the smallest things. “Boy Wonder, you’re struggling.”   “Only for a little longer, Derek will be here in a month and he can help me then.” “Yes, he will.” She grinned. Spencer was busy looking for his coat and scarf, and failed to see the glint in the Tech girl’s eyes. CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM “Well everything seems alright here Dr. Reid, how are you feeling overall?” Professor Cahill asked after examining the agent. “Considering the fact I can barely move or dress myself. I have felt better, to be honest.” “It’s normal, though usually more towards the final five weeks rather than nine, but you are naturally very thin so it is affecting you a little sooner. To be honest, I’m glad you are getting a caesarean Dr. Reid; you would have immense problems trying to deliver naturally. I estimate it to already be already three and a half pounds, a child gains another half-pound every week now until it is born, meaning with another nine weeks it would gain roughly another four and a half pounds. Going against the idea that the child fits the bearing parents frame. Spencer’s eyes widened like saucers as he cursed Derek’s size. He ran through the genetics of it all in his head. His genes didn’t stand much of a chance, not that he minded, he wasn’t too happy with his appearance. “Have you any concerns Dr. Reid?” the professor asked. “One” Garcia stared at him concernedly. He knew she would fret, but better her fretting than there being something wrong with the baby. “The kicks are getting a bit weaker and less frequent.” “Are you getting ten movements in three hours? Movements now, not solely kick.” Spencer nodded, “Then you have nothing to fear.” Spencer sighed in relief. “Now considering your slightly swollen ankles and arms, I need to tell you, you are at risk of pre-eclampsia, keep an eye on it, it is nothing to worry about as of yet. I know you should be allowed to fly for another three to five weeks, but I think for both the health of you and your child, it would be best to prevent you from air travel for the remember of the pregnancy. Spencer thought of his plans to see his mother. He could not prevent the sad look on his face. “I take it you had plans to fly?” “I was planning on going to see my mother in Vegas this weekend.” “I’m sorry Dr. Reid, I cannot okay that. A six hour flight now would cause your blood pressure to sky rocket. Meaning you would be stuck in Las Vegas for the remainder of your pregnancy, unable to get off bed rest.” Spencer was not going to let that happen, he was heartbroken not to be able to see his mother before the baby was born, but nothing would be worth being stuck alone in Vegas for such a long period of time. “Thank you Professor, I will of course take your advice.” The obstetrician nodded approvingly. “We will see you again in two weeks.” “I look forward to it Spencer, and will the other father joining you for that visit?” “No” Spencer answered sadly, “He’s not moving here until week thirty five.” “Well until then I look forward to seeing you again Ms Garcia.” The man smiled to Garcia.   “A pleasure as always Professor” she beamed back. “She’d make friends with a wall given half a chance.” Spencer laughed to himself. As they walked off down the hall Garcia smiled checking her phone. “No cases today yet, according to Hotch, fancy a brunch before work?” “Sounds excellent, I could eat a horse.” “You’re paying so.” Joked the woman as the headed to a local diner. CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM That evening, as he watched TV, Spencer’s phone rang, checking the ID he was delighted to see it was Derek. “Hey Der.” he smiled as he answered. “My Pretty Boy, you sound happy. How was your check-up?” was the reply. “You have gotten me pregnant with a monster, he is already three and a half pounds.” “We Morgan’s don’t do things by halves Baby Boy, Sarah was a monster too apparently, eight and a half pounds and she was the first, and they are always the smallest apparently.” “Your mother is not of this world.” Derek laughed at the genius. “What were you?” “Normal, seven pounds three, all length, and no meat.” The younger said. “Nothing changed so.” Derek joked. Spencer heard noise in the back ground. “And I’m not allowed fly anymore.”   “That’s not too bad Pretty Boy. You were going to have to stop soon anyway.” “But now I can’t go visit you, or my mom.” His eyes were filling up. “Don’t be too upset. You’ll be seeing me soon enough. I know I can’t make things better about not seeing your mother, but the doctor wouldn’t do without reason.” “I know, I just don’t have to like it.” “No, and I’m sorry I’m not there to make you feel better Spence.” He could hear how sincere Derek meant it. It made him smile a little. “Thanks Der.” He heard a loud noise in the background again, “Eh Derek, what’s going on there?” “Charlie, my partner at work and I are getting some packing done. I have a lot of shifts coming up so I need to get sorted before they start.” Spencer became suspicious; he didn’t have to be looking at Derek to know he was hiding something. “Really?” he asked sceptically. “Yeah.” he could tell Derek had heard his voice. “Well I better leave you and your boys at whatever you’re doing. It must be really important if you would attempt to lie to your profiler boyfriend about it.” And with that Spencer slammed the end call button and threw the phone across the floor. He knew he was being irrational because of hormones and being annoyed about his mother, but he wanted to vent, so vent he would. The phone rang several times over the next twenty minutes, each call making the pregnant genius more and more irritated, until finally he answered. “FUCK OFF DEREK!!!!!”   “Actually Spencer, this is Fran.” Came the voice of his boyfriend’s mother on the other end of the phone. Spencer froze in shock. “Honey, are your hormones at you?”   “Yes, and Derek thought he could hide something from me.” He snapped. “He is, but it is a good thing I promise.” Spencer was slightly shocked, though he knew something was going on, he was not aware Fran would know. “Go have a nice relaxing evening my dear and I’ll get him to leave you alone.” “Thank you.” He said shyly. “Anytime dear. I know you just want to relax. Goodnight sweetheart. Look after yourself and the little one my dear.” And with that, Fran Morgan hung up the phone. Spencer smiled at the kindness and genuine love this woman had for him, even though he had only met her once and caused her son to come out. As he sat watching TV again a text came in. “I’m sorry. I love you. I have something I want to do for you and I want it to be a surprise, so Charlie is helping me.” Spencer texted back “I’m sorry I snapped. I love you, but I am terrified to know what you are up to.” “You’ll love it, I know you will, goodnight, and don’t be fretting, you are the only one for me.” Derek replied. “Love sick romantic.” “Would you have me any other way? : )” “Goodnight Derek.” “Goodnight Spence.”

Chapter 16 Ryuken sat at the dining room table, Masaki poured them some tea. “It’s good seeing you Ryuken.” “Indeed, it’s been too long,” Isshin said. “You don’t have to be pleasant with me. I know my son has already started causing trouble for Ichigo.” Isshin and Masaki share a look. “I should have called, but I didn’t know what to say. I’m being transferred to the area and my asshole son is coming with me.” “Uryu isn’t an asshole,” Masaki said. “It kinda fits, he’s also a bit of a dick.” Masaki elbowed him. “What, it’s true!” It was a joke in their house that since he’s both an asshole and enjoys being a dick, he can go fuck himself. “He’s right, my son has gone too far.” “He didn’t use to be that way, our boys used to be so happy together.” “It’s my fault...well it’s my mother’s fault, but it’s also mine for letting her fill his head with her hate and bile.” he gripped the cup tightly. “After dad died, she lost it, and she constantly filled Uryu’s head on what was normal. How anything that wasn’t normal was corrupt and impure. She changed him and nothing I said could reach him.” “Your mother was a very...traditional woman...” Masaki knew that all too well. “The woman was cruel, she was mean to Masaki, put tons of pressure on you,” Isshin grumbled. “I hated seeing what she put you both through, doesn’t surprise me a bit she poisoned Uryu with her shit.” “I don’t know what to do with him, he’s changed, if his mother could see him now, it’d break her heart.” Masaki held his hand. Uryu’s mother was a sickly woman, Katagiri loved Ryuken so much, so very much, but the old bitch didn’t approve. She wanted Ryuken to marry Masaki and wanted her to be a prim and proper, traditional girl. She put her through strict lessons, and Ryuken through hell, if you can give her any credit she was a master manipulator. Ryuken was a good boy and wanted to make his mother proud and honor his family's wishes, even if it went against what he really wanted. Masaki actually helped them sneak around so they could be together. When his mother found out, she beat the hell out of Masaki and doubled Katagiri’s workload. She even went as far as to put a cock cage on Ryuken. He wore it so Katagiri wouldn’t get fired. She swore she’d hand the key over as soon as he married Masaki. She considered the cage the perfect chastity belt, but then again she thought her son was normal. Masaki turned to her boyfriend Isshin for help, and with his help, they managed to get out of the old bitch’s thumb. Masaki left and married Isshin, and Ryuken got to marry Katagiri, with his dad’s blessing. His wife stayed strong for a few years but eventually, succumb to her illness. His mother and father tried to help out, when Katagiri passed away they stayed to help Ryuken raise Uryu, which was fine until his father passed away. Ryuken wished he could say he shed tears for his mother when she passed on, but her legacy lives on in Uryu. He loved his grandmother to listen to any “lies” about her. He was raised to be normal, with a complex that made him believe he was better than those he saw as weird. In Uryu’s eyes, all of his cruelty to Ichigo was justified because he wasn’t normal and needed to be corrected. Of course, anyone with two brain cells would see how wrong that is. He never cared that Uryu liked to wear girl's clothing, or wanted to be Ichigo’s “girlfriend” or “wife”. His son was happy that’s what mattered, but to his mother...no it couldn’t stand, Uryu was a boy! Uryu still liked boys, but he was normal about it, he went with normal guys, and did normal things. His standing with Uryu plummeted as his mother before dying passed on his dirty secrets, which also tarnished Masaki and Isshin as well. She went as far as to blame them for Katagiri’s death, claiming her illness was mental. She couldn’t handle knowing her husband wasn’t normal. Uryu had only one version of the story and not all the details, but he knew enough to dislike his father and the Kurosaki family. “I shouldn’t have come, this is my burden, I just don’t want Ichigo to suffer.” “Ichigo isn’t alone anymore, he’s dealing with it, and with support, he’ll get passed this.” “And so will you.” Isshin took hold of Ryuken’s other hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I’ve missed you both.” he smiled. -x- Uryu continued to steal glances at Ichigo, who hadn’t thrown a look his way at all. Renji and Grimmjow noticed and rather enjoyed seeing the brat so on edge and annoyed. ‘What is that freak thinking? Does he think he’s beaten me? You haven’t won freak!’ he thought, his hand balled into a fist. ‘You are nothing but a snake like your mother, who twists those around her and corrupts them!’ His father may have told him to leave Ichigo alone, but at school could he be blamed if they bumped into each other. Uryu made a few attempts to get Ichigo’s attention, only to either be ignored or in cases where Ichigo was in a group, the boy was polite and simply moved on. ‘What the hell is this!?’ Ichigo’s eyes had a glimmer to them, something he hadn’t seen since when they were together. ‘That’s it...his ruffians, that’s why he can act so high and mighty. He thinks I won’t make a move with them around. Well, they can’t be around all the time...Ichigo!’ He was still getting nothing from Ichigo. Where was the fear, the horror, he had relished it before. Ichigo was a freak who couldn’t walk a normal life, so how can he smile like that? Why was there a light in his eyes? Ichigo wasn’t strong, he was soft like chocolate. Uryu had enough and cornered Ichigo in the stairwell. “Do you have business with me, Uryu?” Ichigo asked. “Cut the shit Kurosaki, what is up with you?” he glared. “I don’t think I understand.” he crossed his arms. “You don’t have your little sluts with you to protect you. Don’t think you can ignore me, I know what you are. I know you aren’t normal!” he grabbed Ichigo by the collar. “Uryu, you aren’t my boyfriend anymore. So I don’t care what you think.” “What?” Uryu’s eyes widened. “A part of me still loves you, but not this you. The boy who wanted to be my girlfriend, that Uryu Ishida is someone who I don’t want to forget.” Ichigo grabbed his hand and forced him off him. “You aren’t the one I love anymore, I don’t know why you became this way, but I’m done taking your crap.” “Ichigo...you...you think I care who you love, they are just gonna leave you because you are a freak, a disgusting freak...” he hissed, Ichigo’s grip on him was tight. “You can’t be normal, you are from a freaky corrupt family.” Slap! Uryu staggered back but Ichigo had a firm grip on his hand. “That was a warning, I’m not your boyfriend anymore Uryu, we aren’t friends if you wanna talk shit about me...I don’t care anymore. You can say what you want because you don’t know me anymore.” His grip tightened and Uryu hissed in pain, you could hear the various pops in his hand. “You don’t know my family, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, what made you this way, but I don’t care. You aren’t my problem anymore.” He released Uryu who fell flat on his ass. “Uryu Ishida, you are an asshole and a dick, so you can go fuck yourself. I’m done with you.” Ichigo walked off. “You think I don’t know...your parents are sick...and they tried to corrupt my father and mother...you’ll be just like them...sick...not normal...” “It's funny I remember a time when your normal was makeup and women’s underwear. So who was it who made that change?” Ichigo turned to glare at him that sent shivers down Uryu’s spine. “You don’t get to decide what my normal is Ishida.” Ichigo walked off leaving Uryu to stew. -x- Ichigo wasn’t dumb, his parents were very open sexually, and often over shared. They explained how they were when he was older, they shared their bed with other people, other guys, other girls, it just how they were. Ichigo didn’t want to know all the details for many reasons, but long ago he feared Uryu was right. Now he knew better, his parents were weird, but that was their normal. It didn’t mean they loved each other any less, it just meant they shared that love with others. He also knew they were happy, and that’s what mattered to him. He didn’t want to know who they shared their bed with, but judging by what Uryu said he had a clue. -x-Warning the following scene contains hentai and pegging. If you are not into that you can stop now-x- Ryuken’s clothes were scattered around the room, joining the discarded clothing of Isshin and Masaki. He was in a familiar bed on his hands and knees. Isshin was in front of him, the man’s thick dick between his lips and down his throat. Isshin rocked his hips slowly, letting Ryuken suck and swallow around every inch. Isshin’s thick manly musk had Ryuken’s heart fluttering. He moaned as his prostate was hit. Behind him was Masaki Kurosaki, she was wearing a strap on, one that was even longer than Isshin’s dick but just as thick. Masaki’s thrusts matched her husband, slow and long, letting Ryuken feel every inch. She draped herself across his back, pressing her large boobs against him. “Ryuken, you are so beautiful.” She kissed his neck, her hands came around and played with the man’s pert nipples. Ryuken moaned, sending pleasing vibrations through Isshin’s penis. “Fucking sexy!” Isshin moaned. The man’s glasses were all fogged up. He missed this, needed this. The only thing missing was Katagiri watching them or operating an assortment of sex toys. Ryuken was the first to cum, and his two bedmates continued to spitroast him. Masaki handed him a vibrator, one coated in his seed and brought to Isshin’s well-used hole. The man moaned as his ass was opened up, and the vibrations turned on halfway inside. This vibe was actually made based on a mold of Ryuken’s cock. Isshin moaned as Ryuken fucked him with the vibe, grinding it hard once he found his sweet spot. Masaki sped up her thrusts, pounding his sweet spot. She playfully smacked his ass, loving to see his hole twitch and spasm around her favorite dildo/strap on. Ryuken worked the vibe faster, making Isshin fuck his mouth harder. His orgasm hit hard, Isshin’s cock buried down his throat, Ryuken’s nose buried deep in his thick bush. He had another climax and spilled his seed into the sheets below. Isshin pulled out of his mouth and turned around. Masaki pulled out of Ryuken letting him collapse, barely had enough strength to roll over. Masaki took her place at Isshin’s ass, after removing the vibe she thrust in. “I love you, honey!” “Love you ahh too!” “Your stamina is as crazy as ever,” Ryuken notes watching the strap on fuck Isshin’s tight ass. “Nah, we are just excited about having you back with us again.” “We ahh missed ahh you fuck, Masaki!” Ryuken smiled. To be continued

He hasn’t seen Otabek in a few weeks. When Yuri was sick Otabek had taken care of him for two solid days— before Yuri forced him to turn over care to Yuri’s grandpa so Otabek could go compete while Yuri was on ice-ban. Yuri had somehow managed to not be super bitter about sitting out for one competition. It helped that he was out of his mind with fever and didn’t have much of a voice to complain with. By the time Yuri was back on his feet and on the ice, Otabek had already returned home for a bit. It’s not like he was going to be gone for a significant amount of time, since he’d mostly moved his training to the Russian ice with Yuri, but Yuri felt his absence like a dull ache. Lucky for Yuri everyone suspected his jumps were weak this morning in practice due to him being sick, and not because he couldn’t fight the tightness in his chest every time he looked around for Otabek only to remember he wasn’t watching. It’s not the first time they’ve been apart like this—not by a longshot— but it’s the first-time Yuri really notices it ; the way Otabek has filled so many spaces in his day to day life as the years have progressed. He knows what missing him means. Especially in light of recent events that just keep conspiring between them. And he’s aware Otabek feels the same on some level due to his vague recurring texts that sometimes say nothing but “ miss you. ” However, their odd way of never really talking about anything is actually beginning to gnaw at Yuri’s conscious. He knows it’s a good thing that they communicate so well without speaking, it’s how their strange dynamic works, but Yuri needs more now. He needs to know exactly what Otabek feels too. Otabek is due back today. He already texted Yuri that he’s on his way over, but Yuri still jumps when he hears the knock on his apartment door. Yuri fully intends to drag Otabek inside and lay everything bare, but when he opens the door his tongue sticks and his throat dries. Otabek looks the same as always. Leather jacket tight against his broad shoulders and his under-cut, dark hair is flopping gently to one side. Yuri’s breath still catches when their eyes meet and Otabek smiles a bit. He’s beautiful. “Miss me?” Otabek asks lowly. Yes, too much , Yuri wants to shout. Instead he shifts his eyes to the floor and scraps his entire plan. “I thought maybe we could go for drinks.” Yuri lies, “You know, to celebrate that bronze medal you got while I was out of commission.” Otabek’s brings a hand to Yuri’s chin and tilts his head back. Yuri feels his own loose hair rush back off of his pink cheeks while Otabek’s dark eyes search his face for something. He must find it, because suddenly he’s smirking and leaning in closer as he uses their position to press his lips right to Yuri’s. Yuri responds with untamed want to the chaste press, pushing back against it and parting his lips. Otabek takes immediate advantage, tangling a hand in Yuri’s hair and pulling his head back as he licks into Yuri’s mouth. It’s all heat and tongues for a few minutes and when Otabek breaks the kiss Yuri’s body feels as hot as it did from his fever. “ I missed you, Yuratchka .” Otabek whispers as he lets go of Yuri. “We can go out if you want, but I just needed to do that first.” Yuri feels out of breath as he stutters a reply, “Y-yeah, let’s go out.” It comes out uncertain like it wasn’t his suggestion to start with. He wants nothing more than to pull Otabek into the apartment and kiss him again, but instead he collects his jacket and locks his door. Maybe if they both drink a little they’ll finally talk about this. ----------- Yuri should have known this wouldn’t work. He’s eight assorted shots in and his head is already too fuzzy. Otabek is sitting beside him acting fully composed; holding his liquor better than he can hold a sit-spin. They haven’t done much talking over the loud music—and none the way Yuri had wanted—but as the alcohol hits the back of his skull and Otabek’s hand grips his waist he suddenly thinks that talking right now is unimportant. It really hits him as he stands up and allows (an only slightly wobbly) Otabek to drag him to the dancefloor. Yuri thinks about how they’ll both feel this tomorrow, but they don’t have practice so it’s probably alright. Otabek wouldn’t have let him drink this much if it wasn’t. His hair is sticking to him as they maneuver through people and Yuri finds himself wishing for a hair tie as Otabek finally halts, and spins Yuri around.  Otabek gently moves the worrisome blonde strands from Yuri’s neck like he can read Yuri’s thoughts, then he presses their bodies together. Yuri lets himself lean back into Otabek’s chest as they start swaying. He isn’t even focused on the music, he’s just following the guidance of Otabek’s hands on his hips and absorbing the sensations of Otabek’s lips slowly dragging where he exposed Yuri’s neck. They stay like that for a few foggy minutes, slowly dancing and letting their hands clasp together where Otabek brings his to press against Yuri’s stomach. Then the song switches to something noticeably headier, and Yuri can’t help but grind his ass back against Otabek. Otabek’s rhythm falters, and he nips sharply near the beginning of Yuri’s shoulder before pulling back and unclasping their hands. It would cause Yuri to stumble, if Otabek didn’t immediately replace his hold on Yuri’s hips and use it to spin Yuri to face him. Yuri only has a moment to look into Otabek’s blown pupils before their mouths are connecting in a kiss reminiscent of their earlier one. Yuri doesn’t know whose lips part first, but he doesn’t care as their tongues cascade off of each other. He brings one of his dangling hands to Otabek’s jaw, tugging down and trying to force Otabek’s mouth open further so Yuri can kiss him deeper. In response, he feels Otabek’s rough hands slide underneath the back of his shirt sending sparks along Yuri’s sides and making him shudder. The people around them have already melted away for Yuri. He can’t feel anything but the warm buzz of liquor behind his closed eyes and Otabek against him. The music fades to the sounds of his own pulse and the close gasping breaths he and Otabek are sharing. It’s easier than expected to do this in public, and the thought that everyone can see them right now, can see the way Otabek is claiming his mouth, sparks a low desire in Yuri’s stomach. Yuri is more than half hard as Otabek moves to trail the kisses along his jaw; somehow keeping their grinding rhythm even though Yuri’s sure it no longer looks like dancing. He can feel Otabek stiffening against his thigh and Yuri lets his other hand edge between them and trails it right above Otabek’s waistband. Otabek takes a stilted breath as goosebumps pop up under Yuri’s fingertips. Suddenly, Otabek’s tongue is pressing against Yuri’s jumping pulse point and dragging up to his ear. He can feel Otabek’s gravelly voice as he rumbles there against Yuri’s skin. “We need to take this somewhere else, Yuratchka .” Yuri opens his eyes as Otabek laces their fingers back together and steps back. The people around them don’t even seem to have noticed that two decently well-known figure skaters have just finished heavily making out in the middle of them, or they noticed and enjoyed it too much to do anything about it . A giggle escapes Yuri’s lips at the thought, and he realizes he’s still a bit drunk. It’s a blur as Otabek tugs him back through the crowd. Yuri would be embarrassed at the way he blindly follows, trying to press as close to Otabek’s side as possible, but his whole body is thrumming. The only solid thoughts he has aren’t even about where he’s being led, but more about what Otabek will do when they get there. He doesn’t have to speculate long before he’s being shoved through a door and into a bathroom stall that Otabek is locking swiftly behind them. Yuri almost falls face first against the dirtied side-wall, but he catches himself with one hand. A smudge of marker graffiti wavers in his vison before he turns himself around. Otabek is leaning against the stall door looking at Yuri intently. His chest almost looks like it’s heaving and Yuri realizes they’re both still breathing hard, his eyes catch on Otabek’s kiss swollen lips and Yuri’s head spins from more than alcohol. Then those lips are moving and Yuri forces himself to focus. “Switch with me.” Otabek all but growls. “Lean against the door, I don’t want you near the toilet.” Yuri swallows thickly, but complies. He hadn’t even noticed the toilet in lieu of wanting Otabek to start touching him again. “Okay.” He breathes as his back presses against the door. He can feel the coolness through his shirt and shivers. “Like this?” Otabek answers by crowding against him in the already cramped space. “Yes.” His reply ghosts over Yuri’s ear and causes him to shiver for a better reason. “ Just like that .” Then Otabek is sinking to his knees on the grimy floor and Yuri suddenly can’t breathe. Yuri chokes as Otabek’s hands come up to undo Yuri’s pants and yank them down his thighs. “ Beka .” Yuri’s hard cock springs free at once and all he can do is pant as Otabek follows its path with his dark eyes. “Do you know how much I love seeing you like this?” Otabek asks darkly, wrapping a hand around Yuri and stroking once. Yuri gasps and lets his head slam back against the door with a thud. “Y-you’ve seen me lots of ways, Beka.” Yuri says, even though he knows it doesn’t make much sense. His thoughts are thrown back to when Otabek had stretched him out against Yuri’s bedroom wall; leg up and shaking. Otabek had loved seeing him that way too, but somehow this is having more effect on Yuri. Knowing that Otabek is kneeling between his legs but is still the one in control. “Maybe I just love seeing you .” Otabek teases. Yuri doesn’t have time to comprehend any hidden meanings behind that before Otabek’s lips are wrapping around the head of his cock and the hand at the base is leaving. Otabek blows him with more intent than he puts into most routines, moving his mouth down right away almost to the base. He makes a rhythm with his tongue; staggering it along Yuri’s length as he sinks down. Yuri moans when Otabek hums lightly, the vibrations making him want to thrust into Otabek’s throat. Otabek puts a hand on Yuri’s hip to push him back and keep him still, and Yuri has to close his eyes as Otabek hollows his cheeks. He likes being held back, and the image of Otabek looking up at him as he slides back and forth is going to be seated behind Yuri’s eyelids for weeks; possibly years. He isn’t going to last long like this. He lets himself make sounds, even though he knows someone else could be in here and hear them. He doesn’t care. Otabek’s thumb digs into Yuri’s hip bone with each noise that escapes and Yuri knows he’s trying to make him louder. Yuri clumsily fits a hand into Otabek’s hair as his mouth slides back far enough that he can tease Yuri’s slit with his tongue. Yuri feels his stomach tighten and he yelps. “F-f-fuck.” It’s meant to be a warning, but it doesn’t come out right. He thinks Otabek still understands as Yuri tries to yank his head back. Instead, Otabek sinks down as far as he can until Yuri can feel his tip nudging the back of Otabek’s throat. Otabek lets out a noise of his own as Yuri trips over the edge. His hips do their best to jerk as Otabek swallows around him and Yuri feels like he can’t stop coming. He tries to blink against the spots of his orgasm, but decides to keep his eyes shut tight until Otabek is finally pulling off. Yuri is spent but his cock gives one final twinge as he opens them to see Otabek licking his lips with slightly watery eyes of his own. “ Fuck .” Is all Yuri manages to say. Otabek stands almost unceremoniously and moves his hand to pull up Yuri’s pants; tucking Yuri’s softening dick in and zipping them. Yuri lets him, still panting and spent; content to let Otabek take care of him. His legs are shaking and he slumps down just as Otabek brings a hand to the back of his neck and yanks him forward. Yuri tastes himself on Otabek’s tongue as their mouths meet wetly. The kiss is brief, tapering off into small pecks that are somehow still heated, and Yuri can feel where Otabek is still hard as he presses against him. “I guess it’s your turn now?” Yuri baits. Otabek shakes his head gently and gives Yuri one final firm press of his lips. “I can wait. At least until I get you home.” Yuri nods and dares to let a new seed of anticipation bloom as Otabek moves and leads him out by the wrist. ------------ Yuri wakes up the next morning to tangled, messy sheets and an empty bed. The sounds of shuffling in the kitchen, and the smell of food hit him at once. A small throb in the back of his head is a reminder of last night’s outing and Yuri groans as he sits up, letting the sheets fall away from his bare chest. He and Otabek had gotten naked almost as soon as they’d arrived, but by the time they reached the bedroom Yuri had been so tired. He couldn’t do much more than watch Otabek get himself off before they fell asleep with their limbs tangled together. Yuri stretches away the memory. He then quickly slips out of bed and finds an old pair of sweats to slide onto his long legs before making his way to the kitchen; foregoing a shirt entirely. He finds Otabek heaping eggs onto a plate and setting it on Yuri’s side of the table. “Oh, you’re awake. I was about to come get you.” Otabek says, grabbing his mug from his side and taking a long sip of whatever is in it. Yuri’s eyes linger on the cup. It’s the same one Otabek always uses—Yuri’s favorite— shaped like a white tiger. It should be a ridiculous looking thing (it is), but somehow its always looked right when in Otabek’s hands, or against his thin lips. The same way Otabek looks right holding it the way he is now, standing in Yuri’s kitchen wearing borrowed pants, shirtless and barefoot with a small patch of sunlight streaming across his broad chest from the small window.  Yuri can’t find it ridiculous at all, it’s beautiful . Yuri realizes he’s just standing there, staring at Otabek and Otabek is just staring back with one eyebrow raised. “Are you alright, Yuri?” Yuri looks away, down at the plate of food, before pulling the chair out and sitting down. “I think I’m just hungover.” He lies. Otabek takes his own seat, setting the cup down. “I didn’t think I let you drink that much. I thought you’d be fine or I would have laid some pain killers on the nightstand.” There it is , Yuri thinks. That element of their friendship that’s more than friendship but not quite something else yet. Otabek had sat with him when he was sick, had practically carried Yuri to the doctor, had tried to skip skating to stay with him through his fever, and now he’s trying to blame himself for Yuri’s hangover. Normally, Yuri would ruffle at the idea of anyone else taking care of him the way Otabek seems to always do, but it’s just that; Otabek has always done it. Yuri is just now paying attention , though he’s sure the other is aware.   He hopes . Yuri knows they need to talk still. Now would be the perfect time to bring it up, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. Everything seems so easy when they’re like this. Domestic . They’re domestic like Victor and the Katsudon, and Yuri tries not to frown at the thought as he starts eating. He realizes that he’s really more than okay with the idea, of him and Otabek. Together. He wants to spend every morning like this, and they can, if he can ever get his thoughts together and ask for it. It almost seems like he shouldn’t even have to ask, that they don’t even need to discuss it, and they’ll continue like this anyway; a natural progression. Otabek can probably sense that Yuri is stuck in his own head over something. Especially as Otabek watches Yuri shove forkfuls into his mouth while barely chewing. He’s eating way too fast the way he does sometimes when he’s anxious, and Otabek knows that. Yuri makes himself stop and look up at Otabek. The other man is staring at him passively as he eats his own food, but Yuri knows he’s making sure Yuri is alright. Yuri lays down his fork and wipes his hand across his mouth. It smears a bit of food and grease from his lips to his cheek and Otabek’s eyes track the movement. Yuri looks around for some napkins, before he realizes he’s probably out, and uncomfortably swipes at it with his hand again making it worse. Otabek lets out a sudden laugh, and just leans across the table, bringing a thumb to Yuri’s cheek to wipe the food off for him and says “Easy Tiger , you’re giving yourself stripes” The affectionate nickname and gesture causes a flutter in Yuri’s chest. And he speaks to cover it up. “Would they suit me?” Yuri asks timidly. “Stripes?” Otabek sinks back down in his chair, and looks Yuri up and down once. “ Everything suits you .” “What if I got them tattooed on my face?” Yuri asks jokingly. He’s trying to keep the mood light and ignore the way even Otabek’s simplest words affect him. The blush on his cheeks gives it away. “Or even all over my body. I’ll get whisker implants too and start transitioning into an actual tiger. Would that suit me, Beka?” Otabek just raises his eyebrows like he’s trying to envision Yuri with body modifications that extreme. “If you wanted it, I guess it would.” Otabek concedes, lifting his mug again, but pausing right before it reaches his mouth. “ I’d still love you .” It’s said so quietly, whispered into the rim of Otabek’s mug, Yuri almost doesn’t catch it. There’s a small drop somewhere in Yuri’s stomach, and his breath sticks in his throat. The light blush that appears on Otabek’s cheeks is the confirmation Yuri needs that he didn’t just imagine it. “ Beka ?” Yuri says. The name coming out more like a shaky question. Otabek keeps his face stoic as he lets the mug back down to the table, but Yuri sees his throat move as he swallows thickly. “ Yuratchka. ” “Beka.” Yuri says again, steadier this time. Though, he doesn’t know how to get the next part out without choking. “D-did you just say that you… love me ?” Otabek is quiet for a moment. His eyes slipping down to the table. “I had a lot of time to think when I went home. Not so surprising that I could only think about you. That’s all I’ve done for years.” Yuri takes a faltering breath in, trying to expand the tightness in his chest. His thoughts are blurring as the words settle. They aren’t a direct answer but he knows that this is Otabek’s way of saying yes. This is the conversation Yuri has been stumbling around, and he’s less than surprised that Otabek beat him to it. Yuri suddenly wants to reciprocate. To tell Otabek his own thoughts while they were separated, to tell him the way he can’t seem to land jumps when Otabek isn’t around, to say ‘ I missed you ’ or even ‘ I think I love you too ,’ but he’s frozen. “I— Yuri starts but nothing else comes out. Otabek looks back up at him then, and Yuri’s relieved to see that even though his face is blank his eyes aren’t. They stay like that for what feels like minutes, just looking at each other while silent emotions pass between them and their food gets cold. Otabek is the one who breaks the silence. “Is it so shocking after all this time that this is where we end up?” No , Yuri thinks, it feels right . He just shakes his head slowly, waiting for Otabek to continue. “I was interested in you before I ever really knew you, then after I did I had the uncontrollable urge to be near you. So, I became your friend.” Otabek says lowly. “Then that turned into wanting to keep you out of trouble, then to the natural push and shove we’ve fallen into. Lately, Yuri …” Otabek lets his tongue flick emphasis onto Yuri’s name, “Lately I realized I even skate for you. I don’t think I’d medal quite so often if I didn’t keep you in mind.” “You medal because you’re good.” Yuri says before he can help himself. He doesn’t like getting the credit for Otabek’s hard work, even though he knows he skates for Otabek the same. Otabek half smiles. “Whatever.” He says dismissively. “It doesn’t change what I’m trying to say. Even disregarding certain parts of our friendship…” He trails off a bit and Yuri knows he’s talking about their dynamic, about being the only person Yuri trusts, the only person Yuri listens to. “For me, falling in love with the untouchable Ice Tiger was probably inevitable.” “I’m not untouchable.” Yuri says on a shuddered exhale, the ‘at least not for you’ going unspoken. He wants to get up. He wants to rush around the table and yank Otabek up and press their mouths together and show him, but he still can’t move. “I guess not.” Otabek says, the half-smile turning into a half-smirk like he can see Yuri’s thoughts. “You should probably finish your food.” Yuri looks down at the half-demolished plate of eggs. He knows the other skater isn’t expecting Yuri to make any deep declarations back. Yuri knows he can’t fathom his feelings into words the way Otabek has, or he’d have said it first. Yuri smiles, Beka is always one step ahead of him on everything to do with them as a collective. Maybe Yuri can utilize that. “I don’t think just stripes would suit me as a tattoo.” Yuri says with sudden mischief, bringing it back to his earlier joke. He looks back up to gauge Otabek’s reaction. “Maybe I’ll add ‘ Property of Beka ’ somewhere in there too. Just so everyone knows.” Otabek snorts, but the look in his eyes says he understands the hidden meaning; knows Yuri really means: ‘I love you too, with all my rage and words and tiger stripes. ’

Keith thought that the taste of his blood and Lances tears would make him pull back and be genuinely disgusted, but it had the complete opposite effect on him. Bloody and salty kisses were Keith’s new favorite. He had his hands on both sides of Lance’s face, pulling him closer and closer to himself. Lance has his both of his hands on Keith’s hips, pulling him closer at the same time. They were just a bloody and salty mess of two boys in love.   That’s how the rest of the team walked in on them.                   “Lance? Keith? I heard yelling, is everything—“Allura stopped her sentence when she saw the pair of boys in front of her. “Aw, how adorable!” Allura has her hands on her chest as she smiles and gushes over how adorable they are. This makes Keith and lance almost knock noses as they quickly tore their lips apart from each other.                 “Oh my quiznak!” Coran was shocked, but not about the two paladins kissing. He was stunned at how bloody and messy they looked.                 “It only took you idiots forever.” Pidge wasn’t surprised by the scene. She had Hunk tell her when he saw in the training deck because he seemed a little off focus. Anyone with eyes would know that it was bound to happen, they aren’t good at hiding their feelings and Keith, mainly, doesn’t know how to stop starring.                 “Ah man, I thought you guys were actually cooking for once, I’m getting pretty hungry again.” Hunk has seen this before, maybe not them actually kissing, but close enough. Plus he was more concerned with the stabbed fruit thing on the counter behind them.                  “Finally.” Shiro said this quietly and had such a fond and relaxed look on his face. He knew this was coming. He had to nudge Keith a few times to get him to concentrate on the mission or task and not so much on Lance. Keith came into his room about a week ago to ask for advice and much to Shiro’s surprise, he confessed that he had feelings for Lance. It was something in the back of his head since that day, but he’s glad Keith finally took control of himself and what it looks like, control of Lance too.                 “Dammit, not again.” Keith gives Lance a little peck as he says this and lets his hands fall on Lance’s chest and keeps them there. He turns his head to look at everyone and is a bit shocked to see the happiness on all their faces. Except for Pidge, the only emotion Keith saw was smugness.                 “What’s up everyone? Enjoying the view? I know I am.” Lance looks at the little crowd to say the first two things, but looks at Keith when he says the second. He really is enjoying the expression on Keith’s face. He looks annoyed as hell, but also happy and content. Don’t get it wrong, Lance was annoyed too, but also happy with the reactions from everyone. It really made him feel truly accepted. Lance can see the gears in Keith’s head turning and really wishes he knew what he was thinking.                 “So, you guys are okay with it? I mean, with us?” Keith was clenching Lance’s shirt, waiting for their replies. From their faces, he thinks that they are fine with it because of the smiles, but he just wants to ask to make sure.                 “Come on man, of course they are, this doesn’t change anything. Well, except maybe I’ll have to turn down the charm here and there.”  Lance pulls Keith closer to his chest and wraps his arms around him, but Keith still manages to get a little punch on Lance’s shoulder in. Hunk is the first one to reach them and pulls them both into a big bear hug.                 “Lance is right, you guys are still like brother to me, and I love you guys.” The hug nearly suffocated them both but it’s also so comforting. Pidge joined in next, squeezing in to join in the hug.   “I’d doesn’t make anything different, you guys are still going to be dumb and compete over everything. Just promise me you guys won’t me making out in random places so we don’t have to walk in on you guys.” This makes everyone smile and laugh, including Keith and Lance because they know that them being together isn’t going to change how competitive they are. They are still going to fight over everything, but now at least Lance knows how to shut Keith up.                 “As long as you guys are happy, that’s all that matters. I’m glad you guys told each other, it was getting in the way of our missions, mostly on Keith’s side.” Shiro says this with a big smile this as he moves closer to the hugging group and puts his arm around Keith’s shoulders. He said that last part just because he knew it would mess with Keith and maybe give Lance something to tease him about.                 “Shiro!” Keith gives Shiro a death glare and tries to get out of the group hug, but Lance pulls him closer and has a smirk on his face as he starts speaking. “Hu, so everyone else noticed it? I was wondering why you were so horrible, but I guess my beauty and grace distracts you too much.” This time Keith grabs one of Lance’s hips and squeezes it hard enough to make Lance jump. Lance doesn’t mind though, likes to know that he has at least come control over Keith. They smile at each other and everyone around them. Allure and Coran are still watching them and Allura has tears in her eyes.                 “This is so beautiful to watch. All of you have the purest hearts and I could not be prouder to call the five of you the defenders of the universe. Keith, Lance, this changes absolutely nothing. You guys are still the paladins of the blue and red lions. Who knows, this may even give you more strength and bond more with your lions because both of you are truly yourselves. Seeing all five of you and how accepting and kind hearted everyone is makes me realize that this is a family and no matter what, we are there for each other.” Allura has tears of happiness pouring down her face as she says this. She hold out her hand for Coran to take. “My dear princess, what you said was very well and I completely agree. These five were chosen for a reason, and no matter what they come across, they are still the five paladins of Voltron. And still a big, universe defending family. Also, it was bound to happen. Both of you are terrible at keeping concentration when the other one is fighting. You both stare at each other till someone says something or you get the wind knocked out of you. ” Coran takes her hand and they walk towards the group and join in on the hug. They all laugh at what Coran said because of how true it was and how bluntly they use to stare at each other. That’s how they stay for a few minutes, just hugging, laughing and making funny comments. Keith and Lance look at each other and Lance has tears of joy in his eyes as he realizes that this them. This is their true selves and it changes nothing. Lance knows Keith feels that same way because of the huge, beautiful smile on his face. They start to separate when Coran starts talking to Keith. “Keith, we need to get you cleaned up though, your lip and nose are extremely bloody and it is getting everywhere. I already clean this counter enough with the mess that Hunk makes when he’s cooking, I don’t want to have to clean it anymore.” Coran is looking at Keith’s nose and busted lip with a concerned face.                 “Don’t worry about it Coran, I can take care of it, they don’t feel as sore so I just need to clean them up.” Keith gives a genuine smile to Coran and looks to make sure the counter has no blood on it. He takes the knife out of the fruit thing and puts it in the sink. “Yeah, don’t worry about him, I got it Coran. I’ll take good care of him.” Lance puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and wiggles his eyebrow, making Keith blush. And everyone else groan at how bad of a joke that was. “Ew, alright, time to leave them be.” Pidge says this and everyone starts to laugh, including Keith. They each go their separate ways and Lance grabs Keith’s hand and leads them to his room and bathroom. Lance’s room is a typical guy room; messy, but not outrageously dirty, just messy with clothes on the floor. There are little things that Lance has picked up from the different planets they’ve stopped it, little souvenirs you could say. One thing stands out to Keith though; a picture of Lance’s family. It’s a small picture, and looks like it has been through the washer a few times, but it looks loved.                 “That’s the whole McClain family. We took that picture right before I got to the Garrison and always kept it in my room, but I so happened to have it in my pocket when Hunk and I followed Pidge that night. I’m glad I did though, I look at it every morning and when I get homesick. It gets me through.” Lance looks lovingly at it and Keith and feel his heart fill with warmth. He loves them so much, but he misses them even more. Keith can tell that right away. He squeezes Lance’s hand and pulls him in for a hug. “I promise you, you’ll see them again.” Keith says this with his head in the crook of Lance’s neck. “And then you can meet them. I know they’ll love you just as much as I do.” Lance smiles when he feels Keith smile on his neck. He knew that was the right thing to say. Lance gives Keith a squeeze and pulls him to the bathroom.                 “Aright mullet, let’s see how bad the gladiator pushed you around.” Lance takes out some type of first aid thing from under the sink and looks for an antiseptic or something similar, but he can’t find anything because it’s all in altain. So he just decides to use water and a napkin. Keith is watching Lance the whole time. He loves how his face shows every emotion, how he’s always moving, and how much he cares. He just loves him. Keith feels a little strange admitting that, even to himself, but it feels right. Lance moves Keith to sit on the sink and get between his legs to get a better reach to Keith’s face and starts to inspect the damage to that pretty face of his. With the wat napkin, he starts cleaning the dried blood off his nose. When he’s done with his nose, Lance starts to gently wipe the blood off Keith’s lips.                 “Jeez, the gladiator did a number on you. This cuts pretty long. It’s probably not going to heal quickly, especially with us kissing and opening it back up.” Lance smirks and winks at Keith.                 “Well, then don’t kiss me.” Keith says this with a straight face just to see what Lance will say, but smiles when Lance loses his cockiness. “That’s impossible and you know it mullet. Now that I can kiss you, I’m doing it whenever and wherever.” Lance watches as a cloud of lust moves over Keith’s eyes and Lance gets excited. He knows Keith can see the lust in his own eyes. That lip is never going to heal.   Keith moves first and pulls Lance’s face to his own, crashing their lips together. Lance is quick to react and pulls Keith’s hips off the counter and flush against his own. The kisses are sloppy but full of emotion, full of everything they confessed to each other. As expected, Keith’s lip opened up while they were kissing, but they really didn’t care. They stay like that for a few minutes, Lance holding Keith’s his against his own, and Keith with his back against the sink with his hands on Lance’s face. Their kisses get harder and more desperate. Keith moves his hips against Lance’s and pulls his hair a bit. Lance groans and pulls their hips closer, if that was even possible. Although Keith is a little shorter, he has more muscle so he turns them around and makes Lance sit on the sink counter, where Keith was just a second ago. When Lance is sitting, Keith pulls his own hands from Lance’s face and uses them to put Lance’s legs around his hips. Then he picks Lance up. “Keith!” Lance yells and holds on to him for dear life, wrapping his arms around his neck and squeezing his thighs around Keith’s waist. “I got you, so shut up and kiss me.”  Keith tell Lance while he walks out of the bathroom. Lance was about to go back to kissing him but they both ended up laugh when Keith almost trips over one of Lance’s shoes. Keith drops Lance on the bed. “I was expecting that to be more romantic, if only your stupid shoe wasn’t there.” Lance smiles at Keith and shuts him up by kissing him. They lay on the bed, kissing and toughing every inch of each other’s faces. Keith Moves his hands up under Lance’s shirt, signaling Lance to get rid of it. Lance gets the hint and tugs it off, while Keith takes his off and throws it somewhere. Keith kisses Lance on the lips once more, then moves down to his chest. He places kisses all over his chest while Lance pushes his fingers through his mullet. It’s just as soft and luscious as though it would be. Lance moans as Keith sucks on his skin, leaving his mark. He trails kisses down the middle of Lance’s chest, all the way down to the top of his jeans. Keith’s hair is all over his face and his lip is bleeding. He looks up at Lance through his lashes and Lance’s heart stopped. Keith looks the sexiest he’s ever seen him. His heavy breathing, his hair sticking to his forehead, his bloody lip, and dark, lust filled eyes. Gosh Lance could get off to this picture alone. Lance takes of his own shoes with his feet and so does Keith, just to get them out of the way. Keith looks at him, almost as if he’s asking for permission. Lance nods once and that’s all he needs to do. Keith has this look of mischief and smirks when he gets a gasp out Lance when was moving his hand up and down the bulge in Lance’s pants. He rubbed the sensitive area and watched Lance moan and wither beneath him. It was such a beautiful sight. Keith could feel his own pants getting tight. Lance was close to coming and he didn’t even have his pants off yet. Neither did Keith and Lance wanted to change that. Lance pulled Keith up and turned them over. He kisses Keith hard, making his lip bleed a little more then went to his neck. He left mark after mark on Keith’s neck and a trail of them down his chest, stopping right at the waistline of his jeans, just like he did to Lance. Except Lance was going to go further than Keith. He looked up at Keith the same way he did to Lance and loved the sight. Keith was panting and flushed and stunning. But Lance wanted to see him undone. He pulls the button of Keith’s jeans loose and looks at him, making sure its okay. He gets a very sharp and eager nod in return, so he continues. He slowly pulled down his zipper and starts to pull Keith’s pants off. Keith brings his hips up so Lance can take them off easily. When his pants are completely off, Lance kisses up his legs and inner thighs where he knows is most sensitive. Keith makes little noises of pleasure here and there, but Lance is ready to make him moan his name. He puts his hand on Keith’s cock, which is still covered by his underwear, and rubs up and down. Lance can’t believe how hard Keith is, but he feels proud that he caused it.  He earns a gasp from Keith so Lance pulls himself and gives him another hard kiss while he’s still rubbing Keith’s cock. He knows that Keith is close already. He’s breathing heavy, moaning, and pushing his hips into Lance’s hand. Lance decides to stop and gets a very angry sounding groan from Keith. Keith needs the dominance and withering under Lance isn’t suiting him. So when Lance pulls himself up to kiss Keith again, Keith grabs Lance’s hips and switches their places. Keith wastes no time taking Lance’s pants off and he kisses Lance’s cock through his underwear. He switches from kissing and rubbing Lance’s cock and gets loud moans from him in return. Giving him pleasure is like pleasuring himself, he can, without a doubt get off to getting Lance off. Lance moves his hips to Keith’s and lips but can’t take it anymore. He wants Keith in all ways. Actually, he needs Keith in him. “Ah, fuck, Keith, more.” Lance doesn’t speak in sentences but in words that are short and straight to the point. “Tell me Lance, more of what? What do you want from me? I need to hear you say it.” Keith knows exactly what Lance wants, hell, he wants it too. But he needs to hear him say it. He needs to hear those dirty words come out of such a pretty mouth. “Fuck me, Keith. Please, ahh.” Keith’s still rubbing Lance but stops when he hears Lance. “So, you’re a bottom, hu? Gosh you’re so fucking sexy Lance. You want me to fuck you?” Keith is milking it now, but he loves that way Lance says it. “Yes, Keith baby, fuck me.” When Lance said that, Keith lost it. Keith literally growled and pulled his underwear off first, then ripped Lance’s off. Lance knew Keith was gifted but damn, looking at him when he’s standing there completely naked and hard, it’s like a gift from the greatest power. Lance isn’t that gifted but he’s not cursed either, he’s pretty average. Keith gets on top of him and moves his hips against Lance’s. “Oh, fuck yes.” Lance says this as he slams his head into the pillow under him. Keith knows they can both come like this but he doesn’t want that, he wants to be inside of Lance. Lance is a mess under Keith but want him inside him. So he asks. “Ahhh, Keith. Fuck me already, I want you inside me, now.” Well, at this point, that is Lance asking although it’s more of a demand. But Keith listens. Keith moves his fingers in front on Lance’s entrance but stops when he realizes something. “Lance, we don’t have and lube.” Keith isn’t sure what he expected but hoped Lance would be okay without it because he wasn’t ready to stop now. “Fuck Keith, its fine, just go gentle at first.” Keith was fine with that. Keith pushed one finger in Lance’s entrance and slowly moved in and out, waiting for Lance to adjust before adding two more fingers. Lance was moaning and moving with Keith’s fingers. Keith moves his fingers faster and harder and Lance is loving every second of it. Keith thinks that Lance is ready enough, so he puts his cock at Lance’s entrance but waits for the okay from Lance. “Yes, fuck, finally.” Lance has been waiting for this for a long time now. He’s dreamed this scenario quite a few times and woke up with a boner every time. Keith slowly pushes himself into Lance and lets out one of the longest moans Lance has ever heard. But Lance doesn’t mind because it matches his own moans. When Keith is fully inside Lance, he stops moving for a minute to let Lance adjust again. But Lance gets inpatient. “Keith, fucking move, please,” Lance sounds so hot and husky that Keith can’t control himself anymore. Not that he’d want to anyway. Lance feels so good around Keith’s cock and Keith just lets go, and does what Lance wants. He moves slowly at first, he wants to hear Lance beg. After a few minutes, he gets what he wants. He watches Lances face as he begs and moans so loud and says Keith’s name. He moves faster and fucks Lance the way he wanted. He fucks him until Lance is yelling Keith’s name. Lance is yelling and moaning and has become a sexy mess. Keith takes Lance’s cock in his hand and starts pumping up and down, making Lance get closer to coming. Keith fucks his fast and hard, rough, the way they both like it apparently. Lance is the first to come and goes limp against the bed as Keith fucks him. Watching Lance come has to be the most amazing and beautiful thing Keith has experienced. Lance thinks the same thing about Keith when he watches him come not even two minutes later. They lay there for a few minutes, trying to catch their breath. After a few minutes, they decide to take a shower and clean off, then get back in Lances bed. “That was amazing Keith. You’re not too bad you know. I was a bit surprised.” Lance smirks when Keith gets offended. “Shut up, you barley did anything, I’m the one that did most of the work.” Keith shuts him up by saying that and smiles when Lance puts his hands up as a sign as surrendering. Keith pulls Lance into his chest and they just lay there and make small talk for a while until Lance asks Keith something that makes Keith want to punch him in the gut again. “So, we are together, right? Like you’re my boyfriend and your mine, and no one else’s?” Lance looks at Keith’s face and he’s not surprised when Keith gives him a blank look. “How stupid are you Lance? Yes, you my boyfriend and I’m your boyfriend.” Keith stops himself from punching Lance and just answers him instead. “Oh I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” Lance smiles at Keith as they both laugh. “You’re an idiot.” Keith says. “But I’m your idiot, and you’re my mullet.” “Yes you are, and yes I am.”   They end up falling asleep and it’s the best sleep they both had since they left earth.

Around two forty-seven, once you were certain Seto was deep enough in sleep he wouldn’t be roused if you moved – you assumed he had been sleeping for about half an hour by now – you carefully reached over for his phone, turning it to silent mode so that his alarm set for four in the morning wouldn’t wake him. He needed more than two hours of sleep to function, given that you still assumed he was human and not part cyborg – anatomically he seemed to prove he was human at least. You would have changed the alarm time instead, but you’ve never bothered to ask him for his password, so instead, you set your alarm for nine o’clock in the morning and placed it on his nightstand. You remembered him saying that his earliest meeting was at ten that morning and you were confident Kaiba Corp. wouldn’t burn down in his absence if he was unreachable for a few extra hours. If the morons that were under him were capable of accomplishing such a stupid, though rather stupendous feat, then you figured, well, it was well deserved and would stand to be a learning experience. That being said though, you changed his phone to vibrate and tucked it under your pillow for good measure. It was possible that he would wake up later that morning to your alarm and have an absolute aneurysm at your ‘little stunt,’ as he would call it, no, in fact you were quite certain he would, but from your experience, one missed meeting or phone call has never ruined your career. Moving back to slip under the sheets, he stirred slightly, head shifting towards you, with his soft locks falling over as he did, and in your panicked haste thinking you had woken him up, your fingers dove back into his hair. You weren’t sure for how much longer you continued to run your fingers against his hair before falling asleep in that uncomfortably contorted position. You were roused briefly to the sensation of being moved or turned over, though you couldn’t be sure in that moment if you were dreaming or not, until you were quite rudely awoken by what at first you assumed was a minor earthquake. Soon you learned that your husband’s phone had an obnoxiously aggressive vibration setting.  Pulling away from where you had been nestled against Seto’s chest, you reached under your pillow. Still bleary-eyed, you only managed to register the time – five twenty-five – as you answered the phone. As exhausted and sleep deprived as you were – or perhaps as a result of this ill combination – you thought it would be hilarious to answer the phone the way your husband did. “Kaiba,” you greeted stoically. You had tried to sound assertive, but in your current state, your voice left you strained and evidently tired, though if nothing else, you did at least convey a great deal of ownership over the name. You heard your name being called from the other end, a tinge of disbelief and shock to their tone, and you managed to recognize the voice to be Kaoru’s. Oh just lovely. “Would you be kind enough to pass the phone to Mr. Kaiba?” you heard him ask; his voice sounded slightly distant and his formality struck you oddly. “My husband isn’t able to answer this call at the moment,” you advised as impassively as you could manage, “can I be of assistance?” Seto had hardly been asleep for three hours, and you weren’t about to allow him to run his health to the ground. You did contemplate waking him up, but he appeared so peaceful and comfortable in his sleeping state that you didn’t have the heart to. You wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, but he almost looked angelic, as he stirred again in his sleep, huddling up to your side. A jarring contrast considering when he was awake, he always looked like Hades, on the verge of bursting into flames. You combed your fingers through his hair, smiling to yourself, waiting for the director to answer. It took you a moment longer before your mind grasped the situation, including why the ordinarily, aggressively flirtatious Kaoru was acting so professionally and why his voice had sounded to be coming from a distance; this was a conference call. You were on loud speaker with how ever many directors from Seto’s board. Fuck.   Convincing yourself that you were more than capable of answering this phone call, you were mentally kicking yourself as you spoke your next words. “My husband can’t make it to the phone at this very moment, anything I can help you gentlemen with?” There was an eruption of hushed – some outraged – whispers before another board member drawled. “Unfortunately Mrs. Kaiba, given your position as the head of Kodama, it would be a conflict of interest for us to disclose any information.” Understandable. Well, then... “Well I’ll have him call you back, though it won’t be for a few hours. Would you like a specific message passed on?” you inquired, your poised, business air returning to you as sleep faded from your system. “It’s an emergency,” an unfamiliar voice asserted. It was never an emergency until you were being summoned by your board with a driver at your door. You knew this better than anyone. “Well then I suggest you call the vice president. I’m sure he is more than capable of handling whatever situation Kaiba Corp. is currently facing. Your other option is speaking to a rivaling company’s CEO who would still offer a resolution in your company’s best interest given my relationship with your CEO. Otherwise, I bid you gentleman a good day.” You stalled a second longer than you needed to before ending the phone call, and they took the bait. “A Kaiba Corp. communication satellite has crashed.” Okay, so this was something you could handle, great. His satellite systems couldn’t be any different from yours. “Was the network compromised somehow or was it an internal failure?” “That’s classified information,” a board member denied your query sternly. “Then I can’t help you gentlemen, though given how crucial a time the current period is for Kaiba Corp. I can only imagine the setbacks this will have.” “It was internal,” Kaoru’s voice reluctantly answered sighing. “Does the mainframe not have a back-up program for the primary satellite’s functions that you can run through a secondary satellite until the original is restored?” It was an obvious solution, and you figured they would have already attempted it before calling the CEO, at least, your employees would have, but it was better to start from the ‘have you turned it off and back on again,’ troubleshooting step. “I suppose we can do that,” you heard an older voice drawl. Are you serious? “You called without trying the first step in the book? What does he pay you morons for?” you muttered in a sharp whisper, unable to stop yourself while desperately trying to not wake your husband. It occurred to you how much you sounded like him. You heard disorderly shuffling before silence ensued on the other side of the line, with the exception of the occasional, muted mutter. “Was any data lost in transmission?” you questioned, your patience beginning to thin after almost fifteen minutes of waiting in silence. “It doesn’t seem that way, our safety net was successful in recovering –” The new, considerably younger voice was abruptly quietened by what sounded like an older voice of a board member. It was fine; you had received the answer you wanted. “Fire whoever calibrated the system last,” you demanded out of habit, before ordering the board on how to proceed with recovering the crashed satellite back to functioning condition. A few more moments were spent idly in silence, before Kaoru finally spoke, his voice sounding much closer, indicating to you that you were no longer on loudspeaker. “Our diagnostics team is on their way to re-routing the functions through the second satellite,” he informed. “We will need more time to follow the directions given to reboot the first.” “Right, well if that’s all,” you began to say when you thought you heard Seto say something next to you. Instinctively shushing him softly, you heard Kaoru speak again as you were about to end the phone call. “Is that Mr. Kaiba?” Kaoru inquired inquisitively. “Hold on,” you advised, apprehensively peering down to see if you had accidentally woken your husband up, in which case this whole fiasco would have been a waste of everyone’s time and your own efforts. He looked to still be asleep, though he was beginning to stir. “That’s none of your concern, Mr. Hidehira” you stated before disconnecting the line.   You could hear a detached voice speaking in a hushed tone as your conscious mind came to. You felt your lips curving into a smile as you smelt your husband’s scent closely next to you. There was something running through your hair. Slowly opening your eyes, the earlier heaviness that was weighing your head had dissipated. There was a stronger sunlight penetrating through the drawn curtains. You could see your husband speaking to someone on the phone, sitting up against the headboard. His eyes drifted down to you, and he instantly hung up on whoever, focusing his attention on you. There was that look of Hades in his eye again. You tilted your head up at him in apprehension, fully expecting to be brutally told off – you hadn’t been on the best terms going to sleep either. “You’re drooling,” he noted dryly, reaching his hand down, and wiping away at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Seto, no ew,” you mumbled, cringing. “You’re being a child,” he dismissed. “I heard you successfully instructed my board members through the back up procedures for a Kaiba Corp. satellite malfunction and fired half my diagnostics team before even six this morning. I’m impressed,” he commended, an unrestrained smirk which conveyed his amusement playing on his lips. “You’re not mad?” you asked in confusion, pulling yourself up to lean against his chest, as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “I think it’s fucking hilarious, though I would have been if you messed up,” he admitted sardonically. “Have you seen the time?” you inquired cautiously. “I have.” “And… you’re not mad?” you inquired again slower. “Just don’t do it again,” he ordered, though somewhat gently, making no motion to get up. “What time is it?” “Almost ten,” he informed, as he looked over his phone screen that lit up at his touch on the nightstand. “Almost ten? Don’t you have a meeting at ten thirty?” you asked frantically, hands clumsily slipping over the sheets as you turned to face him. “It’s my meeting, why are you getting so worked up?” he questioned sarcastically, “I postponed it to this afternoon.  I think after what you did this morning, you deserve a reward,” he paused as if to consider something, “or should I say punishment?” he inquired darkly, forcing you on your back as he hovered over you. “What?” “You behaved badly,” he purred, voice weighed down with desire that eluded you. “You should have woken me up.” “I’m sorry,” you spoke quietly, “I didn’t want to wake you up, it’s not good for your health what you’re doing.” “You could stand to be more subservient like this more often,” he growled in your ear seductively. I don’t think so. Intending to express this thought, you opened your lips, only to be betrayed by your own voice, as only a whimper left you, overwhelmed by his lips against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. “That’s what I like to hear,” he husked, one hand sliding up your stomach to clasp over your breast, sliding the fabric of your night gown over your nipple teasingly. “Seto,” you mewled in response. “Take off your nightgown,” he demanded, suddenly pulling away. “What?” It took a moment for his words to make sense to you. “No…Seto –” “Take it off or I’ll do it myself,” he threatened, a smirk playing on his lips. “You can try,” you scoffed, not for a second believing what you assumed to be a bluff. His eyebrow raised in response. “Is that a challenge?” he smirked, apparently amused, “I think I’ve undressed you enough times by now for you to know better than to challenge me.” You parted your lips to say his name in protest, but before the first syllable had left you, his hands had already gathered your hem, tugging it upwards; the cotton fabric scraping against the skin of your back. Your back arched at the sensation reflexively, allowing him to more easily slip the dress off of you. Resisting him was futile. “Lift up your arms,” he ordered; the fabric gathered above your chest, leaving your breasts exposed. He forcefully held your gaze and under it, you slowly complied. The nightgown grazed past your face as he discarded it somewhere beyond the bed. “What on earth are you doing? It’s the middle of the morning,” you resisted, pushing your palms against his chest. He pulled his shirt over his head. “Holding you to your end of the bargain,” he offered plainly in response. “What bargain?” “I didn’t say a word to you at the restaurant. A deal’s a deal, you should know better than anyone else,” he declared darkly. “I expect you to honour your word.” You allowed his words to slowly sink in, as the promise you had made in your reckless haste surfaced in your memory. Eyes closing in defeat, you bit your lip as regret over your thoughtlessness overcame you. “You wouldn’t.” “That’s business my love,” he purred in a smug tone which openly conveyed his feelings of triumph. “I also like that you didn’t specify a time constraint on your offer,” he added, as he laid his bare chest over yours, placing his lips against your neck under your earlobe, before trailing them down; his bare skin rolling over your nipples as he brought his mouth over your breast. Son of a - You weren’t allowed the liberty of cohesively completing that thought before the swirling of his tongue against your hardening nipple elicited a sudden spasm from your back. Reflexively, your hands shot up to tangle in his hair, pulling his head closer to you. Seto’s hands dove under your back in response, holding you closer. Ecstasy slowly began to find you, your heartrate accelerating; the touch of his bare skin against yours was enough to madden you, but the moment was short lived, as your husband’s phone began to ring. “What is it now?” he growled, irritating washing over his features, as he forced himself to reluctantly pull away to reach for his phone. “Kaiba.” Still between your bare legs, he answered. His eyes darted back and forth over empty space while he listened, his gaze occasionally grazing over you, absentmindedly brushing strands of stray hair from your face, and tucking them behind your ear, his attention never leaving the conversation. You watched him intently in the dim room, not motioning to move. The conversation continued for a few more moments, perhaps minutes, before a strong sensation of nausea drowned your senses. It was all you could seem to focus on. A hand clasped against your mouth. Scrambling to remove yourself from the bed, and away from your husband, you awkwardly thrashed in place, before Seto, seemingly comprehending the situation, slipped a hand under your arm, pulling you up against the headboard. Swinging your legs off the side of the bed, you somehow managed to slip the nightgown back on before making a mad dash for the bathroom. Emerging from the bathroom a few, agonizing moments later, Seto was waiting leaning against the doorway. “What was that about?” he inquired in a gruff tone, narrowing his eyes at you. “My reflux,” you dismissed, “I didn’t sleep well last night and my sleep cycle was messed up so I think that’s what brought it on. There was no blood so relax.” “Are you sure that’s what it was?” he persisted, unconvinced. His doubt was unsettling you also. You sincerely hoped so. “I’m sure,” you lied, a deceiving tone of assurance to your words. … Monday night was interesting in that it unveiled to you many conspiracies or at least the shadows of shady dealings you weren’t previously aware of. Obviously a statement such as that shouldn’t have commenced with such an underwhelming introduction as ‘interesting,’ surely, but you were still in the process of deciding how to regard what you had accidentally discovered.   The dimly lit hallways of Kaiba Corp. reminded you of some futuristic, post-apocalyptic forensic lab, with its glass and metal construction and eerie light-blue neon lights which lit the corridors after hours. It was still earlier than you usually came by, hardly past nine. Up ahead of you in the disconcertingly lit corridoor, you could see two tall figures conversing. Approaching the two men, you recognized one to be the rat in Seto’s board, director Korin Harada, and the other – Kaoru? They seemed very well acquainted with each other, and not in the somewhat reserved, formal manner in which colleagues interacted, no, they appeared to be exceptionally friendly with each other. You had no alternative besides walking towards them given the layout of the corridoor, so grudgingly, you continued forward. The sound of your stiletto notifying the men of your presence, you quickly gained both their attention, their conversation promptly ceasing. Kaoru seemed visibly pleased to see you, though the same could hardly be said of the older gentlemen standing beside him. Harada’s expression turned immediately sour, his conduct quickly becoming withdrawn. “She doesn’t dress in a way which helps the age matter does she?” you heard Harada remark pointedly of your outfit to the younger director. He may have assumed he was whispering, or he may have been declaring that outright purposefully for you to hear, you couldn’t be sure. You raised an eyebrow, discreetly peering down at your Chanel ensemble, consisting of a houndstooth pinafore over a slightly oversized baby blue blouse and black thigh high stockings which ended at mid-thigh, about an inch and a half under your hem. You supposed he hated the beret too. It wasn’t worth the effort to respond. Following this comment, Harada swiftly excused himself without so much as a greeting to the president’s wife. Really, you couldn’t make an effort to make yourself look loyal and less like a treacherous rat? “I didn’t realise you and Mr. Harada were so closely acquainted,” you flatly questioned Kaoru in greeting. “Yes, I was appointed to the board upon his recommendation, he’s taken a liking to me for some reason. He’s been very supportive in all my pursuits,” he explained, the way he spoke the word ‘pursuits’ striking you oddly. “Is that all?” you questioned, smiling sweetly, possibly overstepping your boundaries in your search for answers. If there was more to this connection, you were determined to uncover it. “I don’t think I understand,” he responded faintly perplexed. “Never mind,” you dismissed quickly, fearing he might grow suspicious of your motives. “Was the satellite restored?” “Yes, thanks to you.” “That’s a relief to hear –” you began to say before you were interrupted. “I didn’t realize you and Mr. Kaiba were so –- familiar with each other.” You tilted your head in confusion, brushing your hair over your shoulder as you waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t and his silence prompted you to speak. “Why wouldn’t we be? He’s –” “Your husband, yes, I’m aware, but am I mistaken in assuming it’s – ” he interrupted himself, “you wouldn’t have developed personal feelings for him, have you?” “That’s – that’s very inappropriate for you to ask of me, and I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” you deflected, flustered by his forwardness. Seto wouldn’t want you discussing the specifics of your marriage to a director of his board, especially this one. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to be disturbed by a rather thunderous voice, effectively startling you. You were distinctly reminded of all the interpretations you had ever seen of the god of the underworld. “I thought I told you to stay away from my wife.” You felt an arm drape over you, sliding past your shoulder before securing against your upper arm. From your peripheral, you could see your husband standing protectively beside you; you wouldn’t dare look him in the eye. “It was a coincidence,” you quietly offered in explanation. Perhaps remaining silent was the wiser option. … “You’re defending him now?” he roared accusingly as his office door closed a few feet behind you. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention,” you contested softly. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near him, do you understand?” “Yes, I’ll try.” “Trying isn’t good enough,” he bellowed, “I expect you to stay away from him. Don’t speak to him. I don’t even want to see you acknowledge him,” he commanded. You sighed, willing for the shock his screaming had inflicted on you to subside. “Seto, let’s not ruin the night because of him, I brought dinner,” you attempted to appease him, as he settled into his chair. You held up the paper bag for a few more moments without earning his gaze or attention, before walking up to his desk and unpacking the contents. He didn’t make an effort to look away from his screen as you set down the four tiered, black lacquer bento box with traditional gold motifs painted across the surface. “You’re going to get it all over my papers,” he grumbled, finally sparing you a glance as you began to unstack the tiers, but there was a reason behind why you were so adamant on him eating it, even if he appeared to have absolutely no inclination towards having dinner right at that moment.   Fishing out a pair of chopsticks from the paper bag, you picked up a piece of sautéed beef from one of the middle layers of the box, holding it out in front of his mouth, urging him to eat it. He quite unwillingly turned his head towards you, raising an eyebrow, his features lined with irritation, either at your persistence, or with the remnants from the previous incident. “Just try it,” you insisted firmly, and he complied, though he spared no time focusing his attention back on his computer. He chewed it distractedly for a few moments before turning to look at you accusingly, this time; you had gained his full attention. His fingers had finally, fully disconnected from the keyboard. “Did you fire the chef?” You froze. “What?” “This doesn’t taste like it usually does.” “Is it awful?” you asked apprehensively biting your lower lip, chest tightening with disappointment. “Not exactly,” he hesitated in thought, “it’s better, who made this?” “You’re sure?” you probed cautiously, peering over to observe his face with increased curiosity. “I made it.” In an attempt to continue the momentum from this morning, cancelling your late evening schedules, you had spent the last five hours in the manor’s kitchen preparing this excessive supper which, calling it anything short of a feast was doing your efforts a disservice.     His brows furrowed as he turned to face you, a mixture of intrigue and concern faintly visible on his face, his eyes darting from the myriad of side dishes back up to meet yours. “You –- cook?” he questioned disbelievingly, “You hardly eat -– where did you learn how to – ” “It’s a hobby,” you offered cutting in. “When did you have the time? Did you manage all this yourself?” His eyes narrowed as they swept over the black lacquer tiers again. “Yeah, though I don’t think the kitchen staff appreciated me evicting them from the kitchen and then asking where everything was every five minutes. Your kitchen is unnecessarily large…and hard to navigate…” You were rambling. Why were you this nervous? “That still doesn’t tell me where you found the time.” “I took the day off from work,” you smiled anxiously, leaning on your palms against his desk, the chopsticks still strung through your fingers. He looked at least mildly impressed, though he was yet to actually taste anything besides the one dish. “You were just at a radio broadcast.” “Yes, thus the outfit,” you stated in an attempt to be witty out of nervous habit, “I managed to keep the one schedule.” Seto looked thoughtful for a moment; his fingers laced in front of his face, before standing up abruptly, picking up two of the tiers and walking around his desk towards the sofas. You had expected and prepared yourself to do much more convincing for him to abandon his work in favour of dinner, so you stood there in bewilderment for a few moments at how he hadn’t needed any persuading at all. “Aren’t you a little too old to dress like a school girl?” he questioned sarcastically, studying you over his shoulder, demanding your attention back to reality. Men and their upsettingly dull sense of fashion, you scowled. Would it kill him to pick up a Vogue every now and again? “Do you expect me to walk around in a ball gown or dressed ready to address a board meeting all the time just because of my job description?” you shot back annoyed, as you made to join him with the two remaining tiers. “It wouldn’t hurt,” he muttered, much to your irritation, “though, I don’t recall saying I disliked - this,” he added after a moment of thought, placing the small chests on the coffee table. Walking around the coffee table to sit beside Seto on the sofa, you admired the city lights below that were lighting up Domino’s sky line from beyond the wall of windows. His attention seemed to be occupied elsewhere, as he continued to stare in a mild state of shock at the platters of food that lay spread across the glass table. “I wish we could do things like this more often,” you stated, slipping off your heels and lifting your legs on to the grey cushions of the sofa, as you curled up against his arm. “You’re acting unlike yourself,” he remarked, looking down at where you were leaning against his arm. The statement didn’t seem to convey that he was averse to your behaviour, simply his perplexity. “Sorry, would you rather me be act unaffectionate and taciturn?” You had meant for it to be a joke, though reflecting on your words after the fact, you wondered if it would be received as such. Well aware of his ineptness for perceiving even the most straightforward of humour, you quickly clarified, urging yourself to be a little more forthcoming than you’ve allowed yourself to be. “I just meant – I suppose it took me a while to grow comfortable to you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a lot of things – I mean – your reputation is – ” you sighed, interrupting your disjointed stuttering. Being unable to see his face did alleviate some of the nervousness and yet physically forcing yourself to voice your thoughts brought on such a sense of vulnerability and fear of rejection that you found yourself failing to form a coherent sentence. You habitually laced your fingers through his hand – the one you were currently leaning against. “What about my reputation?” he inquired, seemingly amused, releasing a low, guttural laugh. He unravelled his fingers from yours, wrapping the arm you had been lounging on over your shoulder and waist, allowing your body to fall over his lap, as you slipped forward slightly with his movement. He leaned forward, picking up a pair of chopsticks laid over one of the bento tiers, levelling it against the glass surface after positioning it between his fingers. He was quite obviously teasing you, you deduced; surely he was aware of how much fear and reverence he was regarded with. One also didn’t have to be employed under Seto Kaiba to be aware and fearful of him and his influence. He peered down at you, making a low humming sound, urging you to answer him. You watched in trepidation at him reaching towards the buttered, garlic lobster tails, an involuntary shiver running the course of your body as you anticipated his reaction to your cooking, while contemplating how best to answer his question. He set down his chopsticks as he felt you shudder against him, removing his suit jacket and draping it over you. “You’re not answering,” he pressed. You hesitated for a moment longer. “It’s good,” he remarked, having tried the lobster. Some relief finding your nerves, you gathered some composure to answer him. “You’re – I assumed you would be scary,” you corrected yourself, “I didn’t at first, think you’d be a good husband… to me.” “You think I’m a good husband?” He seemed genuinely surprised; a well concealed tinge of satisfaction or perhaps pride lingered in his tone. “I think you’ve become more than just a husband,” you admitted, nerves rolling in your gut as you forced yourself to endure through your feelings of vulnerability for a moment longer, “I think you’ve become a companion, to me.” Silence… Your eyes flickered restlessly across the lights beyond his window and back, breathing stiffly under his embrace. In that moment which seemed to stretch for an absurd length of time, you feared a great number of things, had you overshared; placing upon him a burden he wasn’t willing to accept, did he not reciprocate those feelings, did he – “The feeling is mutual,” he suddenly declared, his tone plain, possibly concealing sentiments he didn’t want you to hear. His voice despite this, sounded sincere, and that was enough for you. You felt elation, relief and an embracing sense of warmth, altogether. You sensed pent up tension slowly dissolving from your nerves, and you allowed yourself to relax into him. Seto tried each of your side dishes, occasionally returning back to ones he particularly liked. “I am impressed you’re capable of all this, I wasn’t aware you were,” he admitted, “You need to make something the next time the mansion holds a banquet. That’ll give those air headed arm accessories my partners call wives something to talk about,” he added, a smugness apparent in his tone. “Thank you,” you mumbled quietly. Seto Kaiba didn’t give compliments openly, if ever, and he certainly didn’t offer them dishonestly, you reminded yourself. Internally, you were dancing. If this didn’t warrant a mental jig, you weren’t sure what did. Combing the hair away from your face, he held out a shrimp dumpling in front of you in his fingers. “Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten all day.” “I ate plenty making everything,” you rejected. “Nonsense.” Ignoring your protests, he stubbornly pushed the dumpling against your lips, smearing the mayo sauce it was covered in all over, as you were forced to quite grudgingly open your mouth. He wiped away the spicy, white sauce that you could feel tingling on your lips with his thumb, before bringing it against his own lips, all the while, maintaining a perfectly stoic countenance. You slapped his chest with the back of your hand at the sly innuendo. You looked up to see him smirk in response, informing you that he had indeed done so intentionally. He really wasn’t as uptight as everyone painted him to be – when he wanted to be that was. It seemed very natural to him, feeding you. You supposed it was habit from when he raised Mokuba. The thought brought another smile to your lips, one that seemingly wouldn’t wear off. “You could stand to smile like that more often,” he remarked, as he had done once before in this very office. You didn’t respond, not entirely certain if you knew how to or even if he expected you to, as he continued to eat, while also bringing the chopsticks to you every so often. You were resisting a piece of sushi Seto was quite persistently attempting to force into your mouth when his office door opened after a brief knock. Entering promptly following a knock, without waiting for an answer you thought, defeated the entire purpose of knocking. It was thoroughly irritating. It seemed to have become the norm, and tolerated by Seto as of late, you’ve noticed, at least during this time crunch period the company was currently under, with the video game release approaching. You watched in mortification as Kaoru, followed by a group of men in business attire, some with their suit jackets removed, walked in mumbling their pardons and apologies for their intrusion, momentarily pausing as they were faced with an empty desk, before their attention was directed towards the sofa. The men were evidently disconcerted – then again, as were you. Your eyes darted about your current position; sprawled over Seto’s lap, his jacket draped over your shoulders, his hand suspended in mid-air in front of your lips. He immediately dropped the piece of sushi back into the bento box, eyes hardening, as his face instinctively contorted into an irritated scowl, reminding you again, quite distinctively of a certain lord of the underworld. He brushed the grease off his fingers by briskly rubbing them against each other. Swiftly, he supported your weight, forcing you into a sitting position. His movements in contrast to your agitated state, was calm and composed, as expected of him. “What is it now?” he inquired roughly, seemingly aware of the reason for the sudden visit, standing up from beside you; his hands leaving your upper arms. He appeared to be entirely unfazed by the intrusion, not in the least bit uncomfortable or embarrassed – not that he was capable of experiencing such emotions. You quickly slipped your feet back into your heels, fallen on their sides by the foot of the coffee table. Brushing down your dress before securing Seto’s suit jacket over your shoulders, in your haste, you had failed to recognize the anguish that had washed over a certain board director’s face. You had actually ignored entirely the reactions of the men currently occupying your husband’s attention, in an attempt to not suffer any further awkwardness. You wouldn’t care what they made of the intimacy they had experienced of you and Seto, you told yourself, though in truth, it bothered you a great deal. Perhaps it was as a result of you being accustomed to always perfectly curating every part of your life that was displayed to the public, that unintentionally revealing aspects, especially ones that were so personal, disturbed you immensely. The discussion lasted no longer than a few minutes, with Seto reviewing a file one of the men had handed to him, before wordlessly stalking out of the office, the group of men at his heel. Kaoru trailed behind the group, pausing briefly before the door as it closed behind the last man that has walked in front of him. He turned his head to look at you. You continued to sit perfectly still on the sofa, where Seto had left you, eyes shifting uncomfortably over everything but in his direction, as you desperately willed for him to exit the office without making conversation with you. From your peripheral, you observed him part his lips to say something, before promptly sealing them closed. He aggressively swung the office door open a moment later, disappearing behind it. … Cleaning up the scattered bento box tiers, and wiping down the coffee table, you sought to occupy yourself with staring out the wall of windows, at the expanse of golden lights against the darkened city under night’s veil. Turning Seto’s chair to face the massive wall of glass, your eyes flickered over the thousands upon thousands of tiny, brightly lit windows adorning the sky scrapers below, wondering to yourself if all those small dots of gold were occupied by some poor soul working their life away like the people in this building were. You were thoroughly engrossed in your own thoughts that you hadn’t heard the door opening behind you or the footsteps that approached. Your attention was only drawn to the figure that stood facing the desk when his hoarse voice startled you out of your pointless wondering. “Mr. Kaiba, sir, we have trained marksmen on Tetsuo Wakamura around the clock. Our members have also infiltrated his security team –” the man began to say before he caught your eye in the reflection of the glass wall. What? Well that could have gone better. Languidly pulling yourself off the chair - though mostly for dramatic effect -  you walked around to stand behind the desk, facing the man. “I’m assuming I wasn’t supposed to hear that, judging by your expression,” you smirked, your lips tugging further upwards as you recognized the man. “You’re from the Jade Serpent syndicate, aren’t you? I’ve seen you with the Ice Dragons. I’ve seen you work with Inoue – Soryu’s right hand.” He immediately fell into a deep bow at those words. “I didn’t realize you were so closely acquainted with the head of the Ice Dragons,” he exclaimed loudly, in a sharp tone, referring to both you and Soryu with honorifics. You didn’t anticipate naming Soryu by his first name would have such an effect on the man. He also clearly knew who you were. “I won’t put you in a difficult spot,” you informed him, a dangerous edge to your deceivingly kind tone, “tell me everything my fiancé has instructed for you to do and everything you were about to report, and neither he nor your boss will hear anything about this mess up. I’ll make it as if this unfortunate meeting never happened. I’m sure you would like to continue making a living,” you smiled, the dark glimmer in your eye betraying your friendly attitude. “I’m good at telling when people are lying, so don’t try anything. I’ll also find out eventually from Mr. Kaiba, so if I find out even later that somehow you got by me,” you paused leaning forward over the desk, tilting his head up as he remained in a forty-five degree bow, with your index finger, “who knows, maybe my tongue will slip of this encounter.” Your smile never left your lips. You were a master of manipulation, and took great pride in the fact. The man revealed that he and his underlings were instructed by the head of the syndicate to trail Tetsuo Wakamura, infiltrate his circle, and have him at gunpoint with the trigger ready to be pulled at Seto’s command. He was also instructed to report his progress to Seto. Upon being asked what the reasons were behind your husband’s orders, the man swore that this was all he knew; that he merely followed orders and was in no position to ask for justification. Your husband had one of the most powerful men in the weapons industry at gun point, Wakamura’s life at his mercy, huh. You shouldn’t have expected any less from the most powerful man in the country. You hadn’t even been aware that the Kaiba family – your family – had connections with the Jade Serpents, the most powerful organized crime syndicate in the country. Suddenly, Seto was terrifying again, though you supposed it would be hypocritical of you to judge him based on his connections to the Jade Serpents, when you were so closely acquainted with Ice Dragons – the Chinese equivalent. You released the man, and retreated to the sofa, allowing everything you had discovered to sink in. Oddly, in some ways, knowing that your attacker was to a certain degree bound, was comforting, regardless of the means that were used to achieve it. You deemed yourself foolish for believing that such extensive measures, that is, involving underworld organizations wouldn’t be necessary to resolve this threat. In hindsight, you should have contacted Soryu first. Having considered all of this, your brain still craved for answers. Why were they after your corporation and possibly your husband’s? Was it simply a bid for power or – You were pulled from your thoughts the second time when Seto came storming through the office doors followed by a group of men – you couldn’t be sure if they were the same from earlier -  who looked visibly dishevelled; likely from the long hours they were being forced to pull. They had a heated discussion gathered around Seto’s desk, which mainly consisted of Seto dragging the men’s abilities to filth. Nothing to see here. You tuned out the conversation, reserving yourself to the emails on your phone, though mostly falling back into your thoughts. You made your presence scarce while you waited for the men to leave and as soon as they did, Seto’s attention fell swiftly on you. “You should be sleeping,” he declared. “Sleep? It’s hardly past ten,” you protested. “You looked unsettled earlier,” he abruptly recalled. “I was, were you not? I put you in an uncomfortable position in front of your employees, quite literally. Does it not bother you?” you demanded to know, incredulously. “You’re my wife,” he plainly stated, continuing on with almost a snide tone, “What else would they expect me to do with you behind closed doors?” You didn’t realize he regarded the matter through such a black and white lens. “I don’t know,” you faltered, “I had assumed you to be a great deal more private.” “I am and I would have preferred to have avoided the earlier incident if it could have been helped, but ultimately it couldn’t be and there’s no sense in concerning ourselves about it now.” His tone was considerably harsh. You supposed he was right, no sense in crying over spilled milk. Pushing everything that had transpired that night to the back of your mind, you stood to walk towards the cupboard you were subjected to sleep in, intending to have a shower before reviewing the drama script you needed to memorize. Reaching the doorway of the closet, a sudden sensation of light headedness coursed through you. Your fingers clawed at the doorframe, blood leaving your knuckles as you struggled to support yourself; the dizzy spell worsening. You heard quick strides behind you. “If you are pregnant again,” he informed you, arms holding you up, “I want us to keep the child.”

 “What the hell are you and why are you shirtless?” Mikasa asked as she came up behind me in the full bodied mirror.  “You could knock, you know.”  “Your door was open.”  “Not the point.” I turned around to face her and ended up seeing way more of my sister than I’d ever wanted to. “And you think my costume is bad?” I scoffed.  She was wearing a white crop top that, on top of showing off most of her abdomen, was way low cut and called attention to the fact that her boobs were pushed up to her ears. She had a matching white pleather mini-skirt and fluffy looking white wings attached to her back. Her white knee high boots sadly made her even taller than (me) usual.  “How much body glitter did you bathe in? And is that a bellybutton ring? Mom’s gonna be pissed,” I told her. I was itching to throw a jacket on her or maybe a fucking curtain. I’m not usually protective of the shitty brat, but what the fuck does she think is gonna happen if she goes out in public like that? Gross little shits are gonna try to grope her…  But then she’ll have them on her ass in seconds so calm down, Levi. Mika can definitely take care of herself. Oh yeah that’s why I never bother to worry about the little shit, she’s brutal.  “Don’t you dare tell mom. Anyway, don’t I make an amazing angel?” Her little smirk screamed devil more than anything.  “No,” I stated as I turned back to the mirror to adjust my shoulder strap. “I have a sword, I’m not afraid to cut a bitch, Mika.” I held it up to emphasize my point.  “What are you? Is that a skirt?”  “It’s a kilt!” I defended, “and I’m a gladiator, isn’t it obvious?” I rolled my eyes and put my weapon down.  “Kids, are you ready?” Mom called up the stairs.  “Coming!” Mikasa yelled. I just kind of grunted and started walking downstairs. Mikasa dashed to her room and came out wearing a long white cloak that hid most of her costume- mainly just how exposing it was.  “Hiding from mom?” I sighed and shook my head in mock disappointment, “you’ve grown into such a little delinquent, Mika. I remember when you were but a mere toddler, running around with a diaper full of shit. You actually looked up to your older brother and weren’t such an absolute pain in-”  “Shut up, Loser. You still look like a toddler.” She flicked me on the head, “and for your information, Levi, I have never looked up to you. It’s impossible to start too considering you’re so fucking short,” she hissed the last word.  I clutched at my chest in mock hurt. "Sis, your words...th-they hurt."  "You are such a dork."  Carla and Grisha greeted us at the door.  Carla was dressed as a medieval vampire and Grisha was a slice of Pizza.  “I tried to coordinate costumes, but Grisha wouldn’t listen,” Carla explained.  There were a fair number of people already here. I recognized most of them from town, school. whatever…This town isn’t very big.  “Levi, Mikasa!” Eren came over to where Mika and I were standing. He was dragging a disgruntled looking Armin along with him.  I was hit in the face with Mikasa’s cloak as she hastily pulled it off and started to fix her wings. That didn’t stop me from drooling at the sight of Eren though. He was wearing a form fitting doublet and tight black jeans that made his already delicious looking ass look even more delectable. A golden crown sat atop his messy brown hair and he was also brandishing a sword. I could hear Armin telling him to stop swinging it around.  “Hey, guys,” Armin greeted with a hint of timidity. He had on black and white skull face paint and was wearing a long black hooded robe. The hood was down and his blonde hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. He dragged an almost too realistic looking silver scythe behind him.  “Hey, Kid,” I greeted with my usual cold tone but tried desperately not to glare too much. The kid was already afraid of me, and he was important to Eren so I definitely don’t want to look bad in his eyes. Although I have a feeling that ship has probably already sailed.  “You guys look great,” Eren told both Mikasa and I. I didn’t like the way his eyes lingered on Mika for a second too long.  She looked at me with a smug face and my hand twitched toward my fake sword. What I’d say about cutting a bitch, Mika?  After about thirty minutes of talking to some of the other guests, Eren pulled Mika and I along with Armin out the back door and into his mother’s little black car.  He told Mikasa and I the other day that while the annual Halloween party his parents threw was nice and all, he’d always end up sneaking out to go with some of his other friends to parties that promised less old people and a whole lot more alcohol.  “Do you even know how to drive, you little shit?” I asked.  “Not really.” Eren smirked at me as he began to pull out of the driveway. “Whose place is this?” Mikasa asked.  I whistled under my breath as we walked up to a fucking mansion. Drunk people were loitering around outside, sure, but that didn’t deter from the elegance of the building. The cheesy Halloween decorations even managed to look classy. There were orange, black and purple lights tucked so perfectly into the hedges that they looked like they grew there.  “Hanji’s,” Eren stated.  Hanji? As in, “Shitty-glasses?”  Eren barked a laugh at the nickname. “Her parents are loaded. How do you think she affords all the science equipment?” He said.  The grand doors were opened to reveal the spacious inside that was just as extravagant as one would think from looking at the exterior even though it was currently set up to look like a rave. Music spilled out into the night, basses thumping and rattling the floor as well as the inside of my head. Strobe lights were flashing, bodies were all over the place and the center of the room made up the impromptu dance floor where hormonal teenagers were grinding more than dancing along to the beat the DJ was playing.  There was even a bar set up with like actual bartenders and shit Hanji must have hired. I guess if you’re rich you could get away with anything, right? We went over to the bar and ordered some drinks- except Armin who asked for bottled water.  “Levi!” A loud screeching voice I’ve had the absolute displeasure of coming to know called out to me.  I turned around in time to see Hanji come bounding towards us. She was dressed in a lab coat with goggles covering her face and black dust all over her like something had exploded. Her hair looked a bit singed at the ends.  “Nice costume,” I commented.  “I’m not wearing one,” she stated, completely serious.  Well then.  “Nice to see you here, Levi,” Erwin greeted. Of course she’d have Eyebrows with her. He looked fucking ridiculous dressed as Captain America. The form fitting costume hugged his muscular physique and probably would’ve had lesser men drooling, but I only have eyes for a certain green-eyed hottie.  “Coming over to tell me I shouldn’t be drinking, Erwin?” Eren questioned.  “Of course not. Do as you wish,” Erwin told him. They had a staring contest that lasted about five seconds until Hanji cleared her throat and hopped up on the bar causing one of the bartenders to shout in surprise.  She swiped a full bottle of Vodka and raised it in the air. “Party my fellow peers, for it is all hallows eve!” She cackled.  We sat at the bar for a couple hours doing nothing but drinking and talking. I’m starting to feel a little tipsy but Eren’s worse off since I think he’s had more to drink than Mikasa and I combined. He’s cute when he’s drunk, more giggly than usual.  “Wanna dance, Eren?” I heard Mikasa ask as I was busy questioning Hanji who the fuck told her Redbull and Vodka was ever okay to mix. Shit’s gross.  I looked over my shoulder to see Mikasa tug at Eren’s wrist to try and lead him to the dance floor. I almost laughed at Eren’s surprised face when he realized just how strong Mika actually was as he tried and failed to hold onto his bar stool. How else does he think she got that toned stomach he’s been eying?  “Come dance with us too, Levi.” Eren quickly grabbed my wrist before I had time to protest. He smirked as I scowled at him. I hate dancing and this place looks packed so there’s bound to be sweaty people touching me.  Although I guess touching a few sweaty strangers was nothing if it meant I could (touch) dance with Eren.  To my displeasure, it didn’t immediately start out with touching Eren though. We were all just kind of bouncing around with the crowd at first. At least until Mika decided to start being a whore and began grinding on Eren. They ended up with her ass to his front. I was too busy glaring at Eren’s hand resting on Mikasa’s hip as they moved in sync, that I didn’t even bother pushing off the warm bodied stranger that started grinding into my back. At least not until I felt a definite boner and finally reached back to push their nasty ass off.  Fine if Mikasa’s gonna play that way… I went behind Eren and started dancing against him. He stiffened for a moment but then turned his head and saw it was and just smirked and kept dancing. We somehow ended up face to face. His arms were around me, Mika was out of the picture, and we were practically dry humping. I looked up into his green eyes that were blown wide and filled with mirth, the few strands of sweaty brown hair falling in front of them were adorable, and his lips looked soft as always and fuck we were so close-  But then he’s spun back around by Mikasa. They’re grinding face to face now and his hand is on her ass and ew I just saw my sister’s thong…  Fuck this. I spun Eren around again and by now the poor kid looked a little dizzy, but he took it in stride and continued to dance. Then Mika pulled him back, then I did, and this went on for another two rounds before Eren sighed and put his hands on both our shoulders to hold us in place.  He then tugged Mikasa over to him. She teetered on her heels a bit but didn’t pull away. He turned her around, backed her up to his front, then he reached out to me and tugged me over so I was behind him. He brought one of my arms around his waist and- I can’t help but think- dangerously close to his dick. Then suddenly we’re dancing again; Eren’s leaning back into me but also still has his hands on Mika, and holy shit when did this become an Eren sandwich?  We stayed like that for a while. I couldn’t see Mika much and honestly I didn’t even want to think about her, I was just trying to focus on Eren. He giggled a bit when I started running my hands up and down his body. I decide to be daring and start placing kisses on his neck. He shivered a bit at first but then he giggled some more and my eyes widened in shock when he fell to the floor all of a sudden.  I barely caught myself in time to keep from toppling over him and into Mikasa. “Are you alright?” I worriedly asked him.  He stared up at me from his spot on the floor and giggled. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fine,” he told me in a tone that screamed, “I’m totally drunk right now.”  “Right.” Mikasa deadpanned.  “Let’s go back to the bar,” I suggested.  We ended up doing tequila shots that soon turned into body shots.  I did my best to hold in my disgust and push back vomit as Eren licked a trail of salt off my sister’s neck and then downed his shot after retrieving it from between Mika’s breasts before biting and taking the lime wedge that was held in her mouth. I pulled him away before my whore of a sister could start trying to make out with him or something. The lime fell unceremoniously from his mouth and hit the floor.  “Eren, lay down.” He didn't protest when I pushed him down on top of the bar and stuffed a lime wedge in his mouth. I undid his shirt and started to lick a trail down his toned abdomen starting from his belly button all the way down to where his happy trail disappeared into his jeans. I shook some salt over where I had licked. I decided to forgo the shot glass and ended up pouring tequila right in the indention of Eren’s bellybutton stopping only when it spilled out onto his abdomen.  I licked the trail of salt first before sucking out all the tequila and licking up what had spilled on his toned stomach. I ran my tongue over firm abs, relishing in the warm feel of his skin and the slight shivers he was making- hopefully from pleasure. When I moved to retrieve the lime from his mouth, I was captivated by his hooded eyes as he stared at me intently, a hint of desire swirling in those sea green pools. I captured the lime between my teeth and I could feel Eren’s warm alcohol twinged breath fan against my lips and just the lightest brush of those soft lips of his. I was about to spit the fucking lime out and just bite the bullet and kiss those pouty pink lips like I’d been wanting to for a while now...but a loud crash startled Eren and I. I had to grab his arms to keep him from rolling off the bar and onto the floor.  I noticed shards of glass and a growing puddle of liquid on the floor behind the bar. I looked up and glared menacingly at whoever had just broke a fucking liquor bottle. I was met with the face of a horse.  “M-Mikasa wanted t-to see me juggle,” Jean stuttered under my harsh glare.  “Way to fucking go, Horseface!” Eren started laughing. “You really do suck at everything, don’t you?” He climbed off the bar and was still laughing so hard that he was doubled over holding his side. He went off somewhere muttering something about having to piss. I watched his cute drunk ass stagger away with longing.  I heard Mikasa snicker at my side. Fuckin’ little shit.  I turned to glare at Jean. “Lick it up!” I snapped at him.  “Uh...what?” He squeaked.    “You heard me! Lick. it. up,” I told him as I pointed to the mess of glass and liquor.  Jean looked absolutely horrified.  “Levi, you’re a riot!” Hanji giggled. “But there’s glass in there so it would probably be best if Jean just mopped it up instead.”  “Tch.” Whatever.  “Why are you so mad, big brother?” Mikasa taunted.  “You are such a bitch,” I spat.  “Hey, it’s not my fault Jean was trying to impress me,” she said.  “Yeah cause you fucking told him to!”  “I did no such-”  “Um, guys?” I almost jumped at the sound of Armin’s voice. Where did he come from? “Are you ready to go? I have to be home in thirty minutes and I’m the only that hasn’t been drinking so I’m driving. Have you seen Eren?” He asked.  “Armin, where have you been all night?” Mikasa asked.  “With Hanji mostly, touring the lab. Anyway, Eren?”  “He went to the bathroom like fifteen minutes ago,” I said.  “I’ll go look for him!” Mikasa offered.  “Nope, I will,” I stated and took off in the direction that I saw Eren go.  “Asshole.” Mika pushed me from behind as she caught up with me. I guess we’re both looking for him then.  He wasn’t in the downstairs bathroom so Mikasa suggested looking in the kitchen. People were loitering around drinking and talking and some idiot was trying to microwave his phone.  “Oh my god,” I heard Mikasa gasp next to me.  “What?”  She pointed to the corner of the room across from us where I saw Eren making out with Eyebrows. It was disgusting really. It looked Eren was being smothered, he looked so small next to that big ass tree.  Erwin’s hands were on Eren’s ass as they swapped spit. I shivered in disgust; I think I can see tongue from here.  “What the fuck?” Mikasa huffed under her breath. When I was finally able to look away from the car wreck, I turned to her to see tears gathering in her eyes.  I probably shouldn’t be happy that she just found out her crush is gay.  Armin comes to pull Eren away from Eyebrows eventually and both Mikasa and I are just standing there contemplating our lives.  She's probably freaking out that Eren’s gay, I’m mulling over the fact that he’d rather make out with an Eyebrow tree than me.  I swear I see Erwin smirk at me when Eren finally surrenders and lets Armin pull him away. Fuckin’ Eyebrows. I’m drunk enough to seriously consider using my fake sword on his tall ass. I don’t do it though.  “Armin, I don’t want to go!” Eren whined as we try to lead him outside.  “Eren, I have a curfew,” Armin reminded him.  “Fuck your grandfather and his rules,” Eren spat.  “Wow, rude,” Armin commented with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t seem particularly upset about it though.  “Your parents are probably worried,” Mikasa offered.  “Fuck them too!” Eren scoffed.  “If you stay here and keep drinking, you gonna have an even shitter hangover in the morning, you damn brat,” I told him.  “Levi, you’re so mean.” He started pouting. “Leeeviii!” He pulled out of Armin’s grip and started running towards me. I got a face full of Eren and barely had time to catch him and keep him from falling to the ground. I held him up in my arms and he just stared down at me with amused eyes.  “You can hold me? Like, I’m not heavy? That’s so weird cause…cause you’re s-so...s-sh-short!” He started laughing his ass off. I could feel him shaking in my arms from laughing so hard.  “Eren, what-”  He’d started to climb all over me. He ended up on my back and wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck. “Leeeeevi, give me a piggyback ride!” He giggled and kicked his legs out.  I caught his booted foot before it could hit me in the shin. “Whatever makes getting you home easier,” I muttered.  Eren had passed out against my back before we’d even reached the car. Mikasa and I laid him out between us in the backseat. His head was in Mika’s lap and his lower half was on mine. He had his head buried in Mika’s stomach as his wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled into her. I heard him mumble something along the lines of, “warm abs,” before passing out again.  Armin drove us home at a snail’s pace. I was dozing off the whole time and must have fallen asleep because I was startled awake by the sound of a car door slamming shut.  I groaned and made my way out of the vehicle, legs tingling after having fallen asleep.  “I should get Eren inside and then start walking back to my place,” Armin said. Eren was hanging off one of his arms, barely managing to keep himself upright. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not.  “You live close?” Mika asked.   Armin nodded. “A few blocks away, really close to the school.”  “Well, goodnight, Kid,” I told him.  “Goodnight, Armin, get home safe,” Mikasa added.  “Yeah, thanks,” he muttered as he started trying to drag Eren inside the Jaeger household.  Mikasa and I didn’t bother trying to be quiet as we made our way inside our house. The parentals were probably passed out already.  “Are you still crying?” I teased Mikasa once we got upstairs.  “No! It was the alcohol,” she snapped, “I just don’t...understand. Eren was definitely checking me out tonight,” she said.  “Yeah, well me too.”  “But he seemed-”  “But he was making out with a guy, Mika.”  “He was drunk!” She countered.  “Just admit it, he’s gay,” I told her.  “No he’s not.” Mika stomped her foot, bit her lip, and glared at the wall. I think I saw new tears forming in her black eyes.  God alcohol really does make her whiny. “You know, Sis, I think the only one who can accurately tell us is Eren himself,” I stated.  “You want to ask him?” She huffed incredulously.  “Not really,” I admitted with a sigh. That would be too obvious.  “I bet if we asked around...I mean, his friend’s probably know something,” Mikasa suggested.  “Are you saying we should snoop?” I raised an incredulous eyebrow.  “I’m saying I deserve an answer. Why would he lead me on if-”  “He’s gay?” I finished for her with a smirk.  “You don’t know that for sure yet!” Mikasa snapped, “And even if he is, you still have Erwin to worry about."  “Fuck Eyebrows,” I scoffed, “he doesn’t have shit on me.”  "Please," Mikasa let out a humorless laugh, "he's everything you're not. Tall, attractive, good-natured-"  "You think he's good? The fucker was smirking at me all evilly tonight. Like he was fucking bragging that he scored with Eren, taunting me." Fuck I absolutely hated that shit.  "Whatever. Eren was drunk, end of story." Mikasa turned to walk to her bedroom.  "I think someone's in denial," I muttered to myself.  "Am not!" Mika's angel wings hit me in the face.  Told you she's a devil.

I sat there in shock. My cute white wife just had her adorable face fucked by the biggest black cock either of us had ever seen, right in front of me. Still knowing our financial future was in this brute's hands, however, I could only sit there slack-jawed like my wife, while Dwayne zipped up, patted my wife's traumatized head, and stood. He helped her to her feet as well, and motioned for me to rise and follow. My wife barely had the chance to pat her face with a napkin to wipe off the majority of thick white sperm and spit that had spread across the bottom half of her small pale face when suddenly she jumped with a squeak and froze. A deep chuckle by Dwayne let me know that he had aggressively palmed one of her ass cheeks as she stood, and now held a firm grip on the globe, squeezing it roughly. "This ass belongs to me now," He openly declared to both of us, "Now let's get back to my limo so I can break it in for ya." Elise looked at me terrified. Dwayne probably could have guessed her ass was virgin. We were not an adventurous couple. I might have suggested it once or twice, half jokingly, but she would never let me near it. Now she looked at me to defend it. "Bill..." she managed to whimper. I timidly took a step forward, but his instant glare froze me in place. "Don't get any ideas, white boy." Dwayne growled. "I'm letting you two keep your jobs, for now, working for me. But I could just as easily take everything you've got and leave you broke." I stepped away and hung my head in shame, unable to hold Elise's terrified gaze. "No..." she whimpered as he led her away by his grip on her ass. His hand remained locked on her cheek as he escorted her down the stairs, through the restaurant lobby and out the front doors, with me obediently following a few steps behind, too embarrassed to even look up from the floor. I cannot imagine Elise's shame as she attempted to walk straight with his giant hand squeezing and groping her cheek through her sleek purple dress. She made a brave effort to maintain her composure in the public setting, but it was humiliating regardless. She stumbled and made small noises each time he squeezed. Through all this, I could not believe no one said anything. It's like they were accustomed to such a vulgar display. He nodded to the large black bouncer on his way out, said "Got me another one!", jiggling her ass in his hand for emphasis, and they both laughed deep and strong. Oh God, what did I get myself into? His driver opened the limousine door and Dwayne nearly forced Elise inside by his grip on her ass alone. When she submitted with a weak groan and climbed in, he finally released his grasp and slapped her cheek twice as he let go. Once again patting her like a pet, to reward her submission. When they were both inside, Dwayne waved me in. His older black driver, tall and thin, looked at me with no expression at all, just waiting for me to do what our mutual boss commanded. I climbed in. Dwayne gestured for me sit at the farther end, towards the driver's compartment, while he and Elise sat in the back. The door was closed, and the only sound I could hear for a few endless seconds was my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The driver started the limo, and just like that, Dwayne reached down and once again began unzipping his fly, and he barely reached inside when out flopped his giant black cock, still wet from my wife's mouth. I could barely believe it, but just like that, Elise was lost in her own little world again. The moment that thing came out, her petrified gaze immediately shifted. She had been looking at the walls, the floor, anything to keep her eyes off Dwayne and her mind off the situation, but when she heard that zip, her eyes went straight to his crotch, and then she froze again, barely breathing in shallow gasps. Before she could appreciate the view, however, the limo began moving, and with his cock in his right hand, Dwayne put his left behind my wife's back, and shoved her to the floor just like that. She was able to put her hands out just before landing face first on the floor of the limo. "Hey..." she weakly protested before Dwayne was suddenly on top of her, jacking off his giant cock in one hand, almost fully hard again, and pulling her dress up over her hips with the other hand. "Now, don't go thinking I have no boundaries, Bill." Dwayne began. "I do believe in the sanctity of marriage, after all. This is about power, not love. After I fill her ass up, this ass and mouth belong to me, whenever I want them, which will be often, but her pussy still belongs to her husband. I just need to break you two into the company without leaving any question about who's in charge here. If I happen to enjoy myself at the same time, well," Dwayne chuckled, "That's just why it's good to be the boss." Elise squirmed and whimpered, but the weight of Dwayne's body must have been enormous. He quickly had her dress up onto her waist, then reached down and with one strong tug, tore her panties straight off her body. "Here, a little souvenir." Dwayne said, tossing the frilly pink and white panties into my lap. I groaned. "Dwayne, don't do this. I'll do anything..." but I had no way of finishing my own sentence. I had nothing of anywhere near the same value to offer in replacement. "What you'll do, white boy, is lie back and watch while I stretch out this tight little white ass for ya. She might not walk right for a week, but you'll damn sure know who's in charge when I drop you off at home." He was growling like an animal as he looked down at the back of her trembling head, watching her useless attempts to squirm free. "Now down to business." He declared, and lowered himself on top of her until his giant black body almost eclipsed her small pale girly frame right in front of me. It was like he'd swallowed her up. "Nooo..." I heard Elise whimper from beneath him, but it looked as though the only person with me in the back of that limo was Dwayne, lying face down with his pants around his knees. I wouldn't hear about it until later, but he wasn't inside her yet. Elise was sprawled out on the floor, defenseless, when she suddenly felt something long, thick and hot between her spread thighs. It was not touching either of her legs, but the heat the thing was giving off alone was enough for her to guess what and where it was. She froze until she sensed it moving upwards, towards her vulnerable crotch. Her hands and mouth remembered the size of it, and now that familiar size and heat was moving towards its new target. The tight white ass he seemed obsessed with. "No, please... don't do this, I--UNGH!" Contact. She swung her head back and clenched her face tight when she felt the huge fat slimy black cock head press up against her asshole. She squeezed her little sphincter shut as tight as she could, but it was hopeless. The pressure was building, and it was greasy, strong and it was never going to quit. She panicked as she realized it was only a matter of time now, and the inevitable was about to occur. "No..." she sobbed, "No no nonono—NNGH!" With one last groan of humiliation and defeat, the fat black head popped inside her ass. "Ughhhnnnn..." she groaned weakly as inch after inch of fat black cock slowly and confidently slid inside her ass. At that point she gave up and braced herself for the brutal ass fucking she was about to receive. She had lost their struggle, and now he got to claim his reward. "That's right... open that ass baby, open up that ass... let Big D inside." Dwayne groaned victoriously down to my wife. His eyes were closed, his facial expression one of focused concentration. He really was determined to enjoy every moment of this. Elise's face was still clenched tight as Dwayne's hips slowly slid forward atop my wife. Her eyes were shut tight and her lips drawn back, bearing her teeth to me while she felt every last detail of the foot long black cock slowly filling her ass. The further Dwayne's hips moved forward, the more whimpers and groans came from Elise. "Ngh... ngh... ah, ah, ahhh... UGH!" She was breathing so hard through her clenched teeth, little strings of spittle were swinging from her lips. Her pale face blushed red. When she let out a small cry and Dwayne finally stopped pushing, I knew he had done it. He had slowly and deliberately pushed a foot long black cock up my wife's narrow white ass. "Ahhh... now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Dwayne laughed from above her. My Elise only whimpered and sobbed beneath him. "Well then hold on bitch, because it's about to get a lot worse!" he sneered and pulled back. Elise was so small, his attempted to retract his giant cock dragged her thin body an inch or two along the carpet with it. Then he pushed back in. He grunted, she groaned and they slowly set up a rhythm. His massive body pushed and pulled her tiny frame, her violated ass stretched thin around his giant cock. She whimpered and groaned in defeat while he only enjoyed himself more and more. "That's right, that's right... taking that ass like I told you I would! I just grabbed that cute little cheek... told you what was gonna happen... led you down here like my own little bitch... and what did you do about it? Nothing! You and your wimp-ass husband just did as you were told, and now here you are... laid out with my cock up your ass! How did you think this would end? Huh?" He laughed more and more as he gloated. He was still fucking her ass slow enough that he could talk between thrusts. "No... no... it wasn't... we didn't... NNGH! Oh god..." Elise couldn't seem to form a sentence to defend us, and neither could I. "Didn't what? Huh bitch?" Dwayne interrogated and slapped her pale ass cheek for emphasis. Elise groaned again but barely noticed. "Didn't want to stop your ass from getting plowed is more like it!" "Fuck that's tight!" Dwayne commented, the effort to pump faster and harder clearly evident on his face. "Bet you never got any of this, did ya white boy?" Dwayne smiled toward me, thrusting a little extra hard to gesture towards the subject of his statement. "Too bad man, this ass is sweet! And now you'll never get any. Even if I allowed you to borrow it, this tight ass won't be so tight by then. I'm stretching... this girl's ass... out!" "Ahhhh!" Elise cried out. His thrusts were getting harder, faster and crueler. Dwayne just held her down and went even faster. I could see my wife's poor ass raise up between them each time he pulled back, just for a moment. I still think it was just the suction between them, not her own defeated attempt to keep him inside her. "Taking that ass... taking that ass..." Dwayne chanted between thrusts, nearly out of breath. He had a grip on each of her arms just below the shoulder, and her arms and legs were spread wide and her head thrown back in total surrender while she groaned and screamed. "My ASS! Bill, he's so big, it's so deep... oh Bill, what did you let him do to my ASS?!" Was all she could grunt and yell. She looked possessed, and I was trembling in my seat. They were like a single massive body, squirming and thrusting, faster and harder toward a single, inevitable end. As inescapable as his cock originally forcing its way inside her ass. Now it was going to finish what it started. I vaguely heard the vulgar slapping of his swollen balls smacking into my wife's neglected pussy, and Dwayne shifted just enough to bury a hand in her thin brown hair, pulling her face up to meet me. Then he began bouncing his full weight on her stretched ass, putting everything into each thrust as he approached his victorious orgasm. "Yeah... yeahhh... open that ass up, bitch... you my bitch now, your ass is mine... and I'll take it whenever I want, so you better watch out... every time you turn around... or bend over... I might be just around the corner, waiting to FILL... THAT... ASSSSS!!!" With all his future conquests of my wife's taken ass clear and vivid in his mind, Dwayne ground his entire body against hers and growled out an extremely intense orgasm. He pushed so far in that there was no clear space between where her body stopped and his began. He just mashed himself up against her, holding her by the hips, and flooded my wife's bowels with his giant load of cum. "Filling it up... filling that ass..." Dwayne sighed peacefully while my Elise just groaned and took it. All she could do any more was just lay there and take it all. With one long groan, Dwayne finally lifted himself off my wife and laid back in his seat. He didn't even bother to put his cock away this time, it just hung from his lap, as arrogant and satisfied with itself as he seemed to be. Now I was the one who couldn't look away. That giant ugly thing had burrowed itself inside my wife's previously tight ass. Every inch of it. Poor Elise just lay there on the floor, groaning and panting. Her ass still humped the floor just a little, unaware that the fucking had finally ended. Sperm poured from her stretched ass, and it just kept coming. The limo pulled up to our house. "Pleasure meeting you." Dwayne smirked, exhausted. "Don't forget to pick your wife up off the floor. I'll be around to inspect my new business... soon." As I tried to help Elise to her feet and out of the limo, her eyes still wandered to his giant spent cock and her head turned as she made one last weak attempt to take it back into her mouth, maybe to obediently clean her ass off his cock or just to taste and feel it back on her tongue. I pulled her away and out onto the street. Just as he said, she could barely walk and his seed dripped down her thigh. She was humiliated enough, and so was I.

Tennessee Whiskey: Reboot Sean Elroy It's been a little over six months since I've been released from Tennessee Correction Academy and I finally feel like a free man. My probation was finally over. I was working as a mechanic at my uncle Terry's auto shop earning a decent wage. After saving just about every penny I moved out of my grandma's trailer and into my own studio apartment downtown. I am determined to be a better man than I was four years ago when I got locked up. The streets no longer appealed to me. The partying, drinking and drugs didn't hold the same value the once did. They had abused me, used me and then sent my ass off to prison. Taking me away from my family and my girl, Rosalind. The only girl who loved me for me. I remember the tears that streamed down her beautiful face when they sentenced me. She loved me more than I loved myself. I failed her and left her all alone. All because of a stupid mistake I made. Hanging around friends who meant me no good. She was the one who warned me about them, but I ignored her because I grew up with those guys. We did everything together legal and illegal, but our loyalty was tested when we were pulled over in a stolen car. Apparently I was the only one of us that stayed quiet during interrogation because when the trial date came, I was the only one not called to the stand. All three of my so called friends pointed their fingers at me. And because I was the driver at the time of arrest and I had a record, I was convicted of Grand theft auto, DUI and reckless endangerment. The original sentence was for six and a half years. I only served four years and two months due to good behavior and overcrowding. I was placed on probation for six months. Every week I had to check in with my PO. She drugged tested me and I paid on my restitution. I would be lying if I said I didn't think about her everyday. We sacrificed a lot to be together. Our family's disapproval, the looks and stares we got from complete strangers. Rumors and gossip plagued our entire relationship from the beginning. We didn't let that stop us because we were in love. I still remember the last conversation we had two days before they told me how much time I was getting. We were separated by six inch thick Plexiglas and we had to talk through a phone. "Rosa, I don't want you waiting for me. " "Sean, what they hell are you talking about? You are my life. I will wait for you. Six years isn't that long." "Baby, I don't want that kind of life for you. I messed up, not you. You shouldn't be a casualty of my bullshit." "But...I can't live without you. "She sniffled. Tears streamed down her beautiful face. "I love you way too much to have you put your life on hold waiting for me to get out. You're too smart for that. I've already held you up enough. I don't need you to be my ride or die. I need you do what's best for you. I'll be okay." I fought like hell to keep my voice from shaking as tears welled up in my eyes. That was the worst day of my life. I never cared what anyone thought about me until I met her. She was an escape from the poverty-stricken environment I grew up in. She didn't treat me like a bum or trouble maker. She treated me like a human. Like I could be someone in this world. She encouraged me to be a better me. I should've listened to her. We met at an open mic night at Jimmy's. The first thing I noticed about her was her long curly hair. Next was the rich hazel nut tone of her skin. She wasn't what you would typically see in an old country bar, but there she was. Breathtaking. I watched her as she swayed to the music, singing along to a Kenny Chesney song word for word. I was mesmerized by the curves of her body. Her jeans looked painted on. She had the perfect heart shaped butt. Not too big, but not small either. Just enough to grab a hold of. It was something about her. I had to get to know her. I sought my chance when she made her way over to the bar. She ordered a shot of whiskey. She tossed it back with no recoil. It was one of the hottest things I've ever seen a woman do. "Drinking away your sorrows?" She looked at me with big brown eyes. "Are you talking to me?" "Yes, who else would I be talking to?" She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "I'm drinking away my nerves." She signaled for the bartender to give her another shot. "Why are you nervous?" "I'm up next." She downed the shot. "You're a singer?" "Aren't we all?" She pointed to my guitar laying against the bar. I nodded my head. "My name's Sean Elroy." I held my hand out. She accepted it. "I'm Rosalind Clark nice to meet..." She was cut off by the host. "Rosalind, you're up next darling'." "That's me." "Good luck." "Thank you." She weaved her way through the crowd. Once onstage, the audience was silent. She sat on a stool. "Hi y'all this is my first time doing something like this. I'm a church girl and sang in choirs all my life., so this is quite different for me. I have an oldie but goody. It's my rendition of Kitty Wells 'Makin' Believe'. There were a few cheers, but it was mostly silent. She began singing and you could hear a collective gasp fall over the room. Her voice was so smooth and soulful. She captivated the whole room. She sung with so much passion and conviction. On the last not the small bar erupted with applause. She stood and placed her hand over her heart. Her smile spread from ear to ear. "Wow Rosalind that was amazing. You did the late great Kitty Wells absolute justice. Give it up for her everyone." The host said hugging her. She got a standing ovation. They played house music when she exited the stage. She was stopped by a few people who complimented her performance. A few of them even took pictures with her. She made her way back to the bar where I was still seated. I clapped my hands. "Wow superstar. That was amazing. You did your thing." "Thank you." She beamed from ear to ear. "You're welcome. Another shot of whiskey on me?" "Sure." "I would hate to be the guy to have to follow after that." "Hey, Sean where's your rowdy ass at? It's your turn bud." "I so hate this." I said grabbing my guitar. Her eyes widen once she realized it was me they were calling. She giggled, "Good luck, cowboy." I ran up on stage and sang the hell out of Eric Church's 'Drink in My Hand' The bar was jumping and folks were dancing. I spotted Rosalind, she moved closer to the stage. She raised a bottle of water and sung along with me. Her body moved with fluidity. I was smitten. We were inseparable after that night. It started off as a friendship with music being our mutual interest. We jammed together. We even preformed a few times at 'Jimmy's' together. She had become my everything. Last I heard she moved to Greenville which was about an hour outside of the city. I was happy she took my advice and moved on, even if it hurt like hell to do so. When I was locked up I thought about her constantly. I dreamed about her almost every night. The smell of her hair. The silkiness of her skin. Her laugh. Her face was a reminder to stay out of trouble. I tried to rid myself of her, but it didn't work. In the two years we were together she had made such a difference in my life. The sun was about to go down, so the sky was a bright orange color. It had been a long day at the shop and all I wanted to do is take a shower and go to bed. Maybe call Melanie over for a little quickie. Nah. She's too clingy and would try to stay the night. She's a nice enough girl with decent looks who would probably be down for whatever I suggest, but she wanted way more than I was willing to give at moment. I don't need that headache. I was sitting at the bus stop when a car pulled up in front of me. I looked up. "Hey Cowboy, you need a ride?" A familiar voice sung to me. Sitting in the drivers side of a silver Ram 2500 was a sight to behold. She hopped out of the truck. There she was in a pink and white sundress and sandals. Her curly hair was back into a ponytail. She stood a few feet away from me. My heart sped up. It couldn't be. I stood up. "Rosalind?" "In the flesh." She looked a little nervous. I stood in front of her in awe. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. "What no hug?" She smiled. I lift her up and she hugged me around my neck. God, she felt so good in my arms. She smelled like warm vanilla. I put her down, but I held onto her. "You look amazing." "Thank you. You look good too. I ran into your cousin, Sara at the grocery store. She told me you were home and you were working for Fred. I stopped by his shop and he said you just left. I almost didn't recognize you. You're all jacked and shit." She touched my bicep. "Four years in there, all I did was workout and write." A flash of sadness crossed her face. She ran her fingers through my blond locks. It had grown out pass my shoulders. "I'm glad you're out of that place. What they did to you was wrong. You didn't deserve to go down by yourself." "You seemed to be the only person that believed that." It seemed like everything around us had disappeared. We were back at her parents house in the basement listening to old records and making music and making love. We blocked out the world it was just us two. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to be mine again; pick up where we left off. "Where are you headed? I can give you a lift." She broke the silence wiggling out of my arms looking around. "I got a little studio apartment downtown. I don't want to put you out the way." "You won't be. I was heading that way anyway." We got into her truck. She navigated the stick shift like a pro. Memories flooded back of when I was teaching her how to drive a five speed and how nervous she was. She was a horrible student. I laughed out loud. "What's funny?" "Remember that time we were in Danny's truck and I was teaching you how to switch gears and you accidentally pushed the accelerator and we went flying over that dirt hill." "How could I forget? I almost killed us when we hit the bottom." She laughed. "Danny was pissed I messed up the front end of his truck. He didn't care we almost went through the windshield. I had to work double shifts all summer to pay him back." "He loved that beat up Ford." "More than his mama." She added. "But not more than his dog, Shelby." We said at the same time, cracking up. "Is that damn dog still alive?" "Yup. Shelby is still kicking and mean as hell." "God. I hated that dog. I think her ass was racist." I laughed so hard I snorted. "Ha! I haven't heard that sound in a long time. I missed it." I almost forgot how good it felt to laugh with her. She made everything so easy and simple. "I miss having something to laugh at." We arrived at my complex way too soon. She parked and killed the engine. We sat in silence. So many things were going unsaid. "I'm not ready to say goodbye, yet. You want to come in to have a drink and catch up." "I can't. I mean it's not a good idea." "Why not?" She gripped the steering wheel tighter. For the first time I saw the ring on her left hand. Of course, she's married. Why wouldn't she be? "You're married?" My heart dropped. "Engaged." "When's the wedding?" "Two months." "Congratulations." "Thank you." "You're welcome." I reached for the door handle. "It was nice seeing you again, Rosalind." "Yeah, same here. I'm glad you're home." "Me too. Drive safe." I got out. I shut the door. We made eye contact. I began walking up the walkway to my building when I heard a horn blow. I turned around she rolled her window down. "Just one drink." She said. I smiled and waved her in. "I know it's small." I said when she entered and began looking around. "Yes, but it is all yours and you've decorated very nicely." "Thank you. What would you like to drink? I have soda, water, beer, whiskey, and apple juice." "A shot of whiskey and a bottle of water would be nice." "Sure thing. Whiskey still your favorite spirit?" "You know it." I poured our drinks. I tossed back my shot. "I hope you don't mind me taking a quick shower. I've been working all day in the sun, so I'm probably a little grimy right now." "I don't mind. Take your time." "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back." I took the quickest shower I've ever taken. I return in a t-shirt and shorts. Naomi was sitting at my small dining room table rifling threw one of my many composition books I had all around the room. They were filled with poems, songs and thoughts I written over the years. "I see you found one of my notebooks." She jumped, "I hope you don't mind. I saw it laying on your bed and the title caught my attention. "When my heart is at rest". Are these songs you've written?" "Some are. Others are just random thoughts I have through out the day." "They are amazing. Every last one of them, Have you recorded any of them?" "No time. Besides that was apart of my old life. A life I'm trying to move past. Now I use writing as my therapy. It gets me through some rough days." "Has it been hard readjusting to life outside of prison?" "It's getting better now that I have my own place. Being back in Smithfield Park with Nana brought back all the negative things I used to surround myself with. Time has stood still over there. The same people are doing the same things they were doing before I got locked up. Bad influences all around me. I am determined to not end up like my brothers and my friends." She reached over the table and grabbed my hand. "Well I'm proud of you. You have matured, so much. I always knew you could do it. Yeah you had to go through some stuff to get here, but you did it all on your own." "Thanks for believing in me." "Always" She smiled at me and let go of my hand to grab her water. "So enough about me, I thought you moved to Greenville? What are you doing in the city?" "I did move. I come down here twice a week to help my parents with the church." "How's the family?" "Mom and dad are great. Nothing has really changed with them. Savon just graduated from M.I.T. Kevin is doing good. He's in eighth grade playing every sport his school has to offer." She laughed. She pulled out her cellphone and showed me a picture of Kevin. "Wow that's little Kevin? What is he like six feet now." "Damn near. How's your grandma?" "Still loud and all over the place. She moved her forty year old boyfriend into the trailer, so you can't tell her anything. That was another reason I had to leave those two go at it like rabbits it's disgusting." "Oh lord." Rosalind slapped her thigh laughing. "You better let Sherrie live her best life. She's in her sixties right?" "She'll be seventy-one in November." I said shaking my head. "Good for her. Your only as old as you feel." "I guess. Where did you meet your fiance?" "Do you remember Patrick Rogers?" "Yeah the nerdy guy that followed you around the church like a puppy dog.?" She laughed, "Well..." "No way! That's who you're marrying? Get out of here. He finally wore you down." "You can say that." She glanced at her ring. "Wow. How is he?" "He's great. You must not watch the news he's gearing up to be the next mayor of Greenville in November." "Really? Good for him. Are you ready for all that?" "It's a lot of pressure trying to be perfect twenty-four seven. Between being the famous Bishop Fredrick Clark's daughter and being the fiance of the city's future mayor, my life is a little chaotic. Any wrong move will be newsworthy." "So being here with me is risky?" She sighed, "Probably." "I don't want to get you in trouble." "I just left choir rehearsal, so I think I'm fine. Besides I want to be here. So what about you? Are you seeing anyone?" "Me? No one solid. I don't really have time for relationships. Are you still singing and writing?" "Hardly. The only singing I'm doing now is in the choir stand at Mt. Zion. Any free time I have now is dedicated to the campaign and the wedding. Have you been doing any open mics since coming home?" She tossed back the shot. I poured her another. "No, I've been busy working and staying out of trouble." "It's good you're staying out of trouble, but music has always been your first love. You're so talented. It would be an absolute shame to waste your God given' gift." "I can say the same to you. We used to shut Jimmy's down on Thursday nights." "We had some wild nights there. Remember that song we wrote together? We never finished it. It was going to be our breakout single. It was so beautiful. The melody plays in my head all the time." "That song has haunted me my entire stay at the Academy. I couldn't finish it without you." I went over to the wall and picked up my Fender. I sat on the edge of my bed and tuned it up. I played the melody to our song. She stood up and took her sandals off. "Yeah that's it." She closed her eyes and began swaying back and forth, letting the notes invade her soul. She began singing, "If the world was to believe that what we share wasn't meant to be. Then it would be just you and me against the world. And if our friends and family couldn't bear to see us both happy. Then it will be just you and me against the world." I was mesmerized by the sensual tone of her voice. I missed it so much. Goosebumps raised up on my skin. She walked over to me and sat beside me. I sung my part looking into her brown eyes. "They could say what they want but it will never change my views. 'Cause they'll never know you the way that I know you. See I'm trying to share the rest of my whole life with you and if we got to be alone, so be it baby. If they can't understand our love, then we don't need them baby. We can go against the whole world. Even if our friends turn on us. Even if our family turns on us. That's alright. 'Cause as long as we got each other baby then we can make it through whatever. She took the guitar from my hands and placed it against the wall. She returned to me. She brought her lips to mine. At first, I was paralyzed by this unexpected change of events. I dreamed about this moment for so long I wasn't sure how to react, but when her tongue snuck its way into my mouth I began to respond. Her kiss tasted like the whiskey we were drinking. I pulled her onto my lap. She groaned in my mouth. We made out, tongues exploring. My hand found its way to the bared flesh of her thigh. My thumb making circles on the silky skin of her inner thigh. I moved it a little higher, but she stopped me by grabbing my hand. She stood up abruptly straightening her dress. She looked distressed. "Shit...I'm sorry, Rosy. I didn't mean to..." "Ssh..." She cut me off. She ran her fingers through her hair, biting her bottom lip, looking away from me. "We shouldn't be doing this." "No, we shouldn't." I shook my head agreeing with her. "I want to." She looked back at me. I raised an eyebrow. "We can't though." She said. Disappointed, but I understood."We don't have to. This never happened." "I should go." She looked around for her belongings. "You don't have to." I jumped up. "We can just keep talking." I wasn't ready for her to leave. "Yes, I do because if I don't I might do something I'll regret." "I don't want you to regretting anything." I touched the side of her face, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb. She sucked it between her plump lips. I was instantly hard. Reminding me of the freaky things we use to do. I could tell she had the same thoughts when she got that far away look in her eyes. She released my digit and licked her lips. I wrapped my arms around her and whispered across her lips. "Stay." She said nothing. We looked at one another. God, she was so beautiful. She reached up and tucked a strand of curly hair behind my ear. It was still damp from the shower. I wanted to taste those sexy lips again. I want to hold her, make love to her. I wanted to carve my way back into her heart. Selfish I know, but I needed her like my next breath. "Rosy, please stay." I heard myself beg. She made me weak for her. "Sean...I can't..." Before she could complete her sentence, I bent my head a took possession of her soft lips. She gasped and I deepened the kiss. Rosalind responded by wrapping her arms around my neck and sucking on my bottom lip. Her need matching my need. Her lust matching my lust. I groaned. She pulled away from me again. She turned her back to me. I thought she was going to leave until she moved hair to one side and pointed at the nape of her neck. "Unzip me please." If I didn't think it would be a turn off, I would've jumped up and down. I pulled down the tiny zipper until it stopped right above the swell of her ass. I was mesmerized by every inch of revealed skin. "I know you've been away for a while, but surely you haven't forgotten how to properly undress a lady." She smirked over her shoulder. "No ma'am, I haven't." I peeled back the fabric and she assisted me by pulling her arms through the holes. The dress remained at her waist. My hands moved up the smoothness of her feminine back. She shuddered and moaned. I dropped down to my knees. I hooked my hands into the sides of the dress pulling downward. It barely moved. How the hell did she get this dress over her ass? She giggled realizing my dilemma. "I wiggle; you pull." The fabric gave way. She stepped out of the dress. "Oh, Rosy." She wore a pair of lacy black thongs that framed her heart shaped ass perfectly. I wanted to bury my entire face between those cheeks. Something else caught my attention. Underneath the waist band on her left hip there was a colorful tattoo that I never seen before. I pulled it down to get a better look. I touched the slightly raised skin. "I got it a week before your sentence hearing. It was supposed to be a surprise when you got out, but then... you know." It was a tattoo of a cowboy hat surrounded by roses and on the brim of the hat had the initials S.E. for 'Sean Elroy' "Corny, right?" I couldn't form words. An overwhelming emotion consumed me. The tattoo proved the devotion she had to me back then. She loved me, probably more than my own mother. I didn't deserve her. "Sean?" Her voice soft. She turned around. She tilted her head to the side. She reached down and cupped my face. I turned my head and kissed her palm. "I'm sorry for being a fuck up and breaking your heart. I thought..." "You don't have to explain anything to me." "No, I have to say this. I thought I was protecting you." "From what?" Her voice cracked. "From me. I was making the same stupid choices over and over again. I was dragging you down with me. You deserved better than me. Even now I don't feel worthy of you. Look at me convincing you to cheat on, Patrick. I'm no good." "Sean." She said coming down to her knees leveling with me. "I'm not perfect. I've made plenty of mistakes on my own. You didn't have to convince me to do anything. I did them willingly. I loved you despite your faults. You're not a bad guy. You're sweet, caring, talented, smart and you have the biggest heart of any man I've ever known. I just wish you saw what I saw. I was mad at you for a long time, but I could never hate you. You were my best friend." Her voice cracked a little. She cleared her throat." She grabbed my hand. "I forgave you a long time ago. All you have to do now is forgive yourself." Still she was my peace. After all this time she still knew the exact words to calm my soul. "Sean?" "Yes." "Will you make love to me?" I took her lips possessively. Her fingers were in my hair. I undid her strapless bra. Pulling it from her body. Her breast are a little bigger than I remembered, but they were just as beautiful. Caramel topped with Hershey kiss nipples. I bent down and took one into my mouth, laving it with my tongue and sucking on it gently. "Mm yes baby." She moaned. I moved to the other one giving it some attention too. Rosalind's hands were all over me. Pulling my shirt over my head. "Gosh darn 'it." She gasped touching my ink riddled chest. She leaned in and started kissing me on my neck and down my chest. Her fingers worked on the button to my shorts. Once enough room was provided, she reached into my briefs and found me hard and ready. She moaned. I kissed her while she stroked me. The feeling had gotten too much, so I stopped her. She pouted. I leaned her back on the white carpet. The bed seemed too far away to move to. I stared into her wild brown eyes. Still hypnotic. I started at the middle of her chest and kissed down her body over her cute belly button. She giggled. I continued downward. I caught a whiff of her scent. It charged my senses. I touched her over her panties. It was saturated in her juices. I pulled them down her long legs. I tossed them on my bed. They were mine now. She spread her legs for me revealing her pretty, brown shaved nether lips with the pink insides. I settled between her thighs. Getting comfortable so I could feast. I kissed up her inner thighs giving them little bites. I ran my nails up the back of her thighs and she shuddered. "Please, Sean." She moaned. I used my thumbs to open her up a little more. Her little pussy hole was clenching and leaking fluid. I was pleased to know she was so turned on. I leaned in and stuck my tongue as far as it would go. She scooted away from me. Nothing change she was still a runner. I pulled her back to me. She groaned deep in her throat back bowing as I sucked her clit. She sat up on her elbows and watched me through glassy eyes as I tongue fucked her. She tasted so damn good. I couldn't get enough of her nectar. The more I slurped it up, the more she produced. She tugged my hair shoving me into her pussy one minute and yanking me away the next. Which only spurred me on more. "Oh fuck. You're eating my pussy so good. Eat it up, baby. You've always been so damn greedy." The Bishop's daughter had a filthy mouth. The twisted bliss on her face was one I missed. Hearing her talk dirty was a next level aphrodisiac. I was ridiculously hard. She ground her wet cunt into my face. I drank from her and became drenched in her juices. Her body twist and turned uncontrollably, so I had to lock my arms around her thighs to keep her lower half steady. The girl was too sensitive for her own good. It made me wonder if Patrick was fucking her properly. Did he get her this wet? Did he have her yelling out like this? Probably not! He didn't seem like the type to do the freaky things she liked. Things I taught her to like. "Oh Sean." She screamed. Rosalind sat up on her elbows to look down at me. We locked eyes as I began to spell my name with my tongue across her clit. She bit into her bottom lip when I swirled my tongue making the S, but when I ended with the Y and suck on her clit hard she came violently. Her whole body seized and she screamed throwing her head back. I'm sure the whole complex heard her. She dropped back down. I kissed up her slick body until I reached her face. Her hair was fanned underneath her head. She smiled at me. Her breathing was labored. "Wow." She swallowed, "I was loud, wasn't I?" "It's nice to know I haven't loss my touch." I laughed. "No you haven't." She licked her lips. "Are you sure you want to go further?" "You're so sweet, but I want more. More of you. I need you inside me. I need it so badly." She reached down and stroked me through my shorts. There it was I pushed all of my grievances aside about what we were doing. I reached over to my nightstand and reached into the drawer to pull out a condom. "No let me." I handed her the condom. "Lay back." I laid back. She held the condom between her teeth and made short work of my briefs and khaki shorts. My soldier was standing at attention. She laid the condom beside me and leaned forward and took me into her mouth, twirling her tongue around the head licking up some of my precum. Her mouth was so hot, my toes curled. "Mm you taste so good." She went back in suckling the head like a lollipop. "Damn!" I groaned clenching my butt cheeks. "I'm going to cum quick if you keep doing that." "Cum then. I want to taste it." She licked me like an ice cream cone. "It's been in a long time. Trust me you'll get it back up again if you wan to fuck this wet pussy." She engulfed at least seven of my ten inches in one swallow. "Fuck." I yelled out. Nope I wasn't going to last long. Not with her doing stuff like that. I could feel her throat muscles contract around the head. She pulled back gasping for air. "Mm don't worry I'll get the rest." She spit on my shaft coating my throbbing penis as she stroked it. I shook my head. She was still just as nasty as before. Putting me back in her mouth she began bobbing her head up and down. Taking me to the back of her throat over and over again. I pushed my fingers through her silky strands. Holding on for dear life. She made a second attempt at swallowing me whole and this time only one inch remained outside her juicy mouth. Her throat worked overtime. She was driving me crazy. She lift her head again to catch her breath. "Almost." She smiled. "Baby you're killing me." I was so close to the edge my heart was racing. "You can take it." She licked down to my balls then back to the head of my cock and back down again. Taking each one between her lips. I was under her complete control and she knew it. Again she took me in her mouth. This time swallowing me whole. "Oh fuck." I yelled as my cock began to throb. I reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her head down as I emptied myself down her contracting throat. My eyes rolled in the back of my head. I realized how tight I was gripping her hair half way through my orgasm. I let go and heard her groan as she got every ounce without pause. She finally showed me mercy by letting me pop from her mouth. She showed me the remnants of my ejaculation on her tongue and then I watched her swallow it. "Mm so good." She moaned. "Fuck, woman." I said breathlessly. Rosy chuckled while straddling my hips. Her hot, wet slit hovering over my withering erection. She leaned forward until her breast were pressed against my chest. Cool flesh against my burning skin. My hands immediately went to her ass pulling her pussy atop my dick. "I told you I can fit it all." She smiled proud of herself. One of the things I loved most about her was how playful she was. It was contagious. "You still got it baby." She licked her swollen lips. "Mm you tasted so good. I can't wait to get this big dick between my other lips. I got so wet sucking you off." She grinded pussy on the head of my cock. It twitched giving it's first signs of life. "Ooh he likes that idea too." She moaned. She work her hips in tight circles. The sensation causing blood to begin circulating in my cock. I pulled her down by her neck and plunged my tongue between her lips. I locked her in place. We went at it hungrily. I began rocking my hips underneath her my shaft and crown slipping up and down her clit and opening seeking entry. We moaned into each others mouth. I never gotten back hard so quickly before. There was a slight numbness, but the sensation was still incredible. Her body stiffened and she threw her head back letting out a whimpering sound. Then I felt a gush of fluid coat my cock. She came collapsing onto my chest. Her face in my neck. Her breathing shallow and hot on my ear. "I have to get you inside me before you make me pass out." She chuckled. I released my hold on her and she climbed off of me. "Stay right here." She found the forgotten condom. She gently rolled the condom down my shaft. I snatched a pillow from the bed to support my head. I didn't want to miss a second. She stood over me and squatted down on her feet. She held my shaft in one hand and slowly slid her tight, wet pussy onto it. I never felt anything so snug and wet in my life. My eyes were rolling in the back of my head. She yelled out. "Fuck. I haven't had anything this big in me since you left. It's going to take a minute for me to adjust." "Take your time baby, I don't want you to hurt yourself." I said through clenched teeth. The sight of her tight pussy swallowing my pale thick rod inch by inch, nearly gave me a heart attack. I had to look elsewhere, or I'd explode. When she was fully seated, we both let out sigh of relief. She laughed breathlessly, "I forgot how big this white cock is." She rode me in leisure strides as she got accustomed to my girth. I aided her by rubbing her clit. She became wetter easing my passage way. I let her do all the work until she gave me permission to join in. Her brown eyes were slits and her hair was starting kink up into tight curls. She leaned forward dropping to her knees. Her tits dangled above my face. I reached up and took hold of them and attacked her hard nipples with vigor. Her bounces became a little frantic. "Oh god." She screamed out. She sat up slightly causing her fat nipple to pop from my mouth. She threw her head back. She grinded her way into another orgasm. It was the sexiest shit I ever seen. She was still the wild, passionate, multi-orgasmic lover I knew and loved. I was so caught up in watching her use me to get off, that I was able to hold off my own orgasm. After she stopped trembling, she smiled down on me. She looked satisfied, but this was only the beginning. I pulled her down until we were chest to chest. I bit and sucked on her lips. Her hair fell forward creating a curtain around us. I squeezed and slapped her ass causing her to cry out. We shared a couple of breaths. I felt her loosen up a little a little more. "Okay baby you can get it now." She breath against my lips. I was now able to participate. I gripped her waist and rolled my hips getting as deep as I could. She dug her nails into my chest. We met stroke for stroke. Falling into a rhythm we created years ago. "Ha yes. That's it." She was gushing all around me. I hit the money spot. "You're coming for me already?" "Mm hmm." She nodded rapidly eyes watery. "You feel incredible. Better than anything I've ever felt." We locked lips again. Something in that moment changed. My heart began to flutter. She had collapsed on top of me her body trembling as she came again. I held onto her stilling my movements to feel the contractions of her gushy love tunnel. "Sean." She whispered in my ear. "Please." She said weakly. Instinctively I knew what to do. I rolled us over until I was on top. I brushed her hair back. Her eyes were smoldering embers. It lit a fire in my veins. I began slow stroking her. She felt so damn good. I didn't want it to end. I was working on the edge of an massive explosion. Sweat dripped from my forehead and landed on her lips. She licked it off. She reached up and cupped my face. "Don't hold back. Please baby. I need it." She begged. That was all the encouragement I needed. I came like a freight train bringing her over with me. The feeling was never ending. She was wrapped so tight around me I could barely move. I collapsed on top of her. She snatched my soul and didn't know it. After a few seconds of catching our breaths. I rolled to the side pulling her with me. I wrapped my arms around her. I didn't want to let her go, not ever. She laid her head on my chest. "Dammit baby I missed this feeling." My body felt like it was vibrating. "Me too." She snuggled deeper into my chest. We laid there in silence. The only sounds in the apartment was the clicking sound of the ceiling fan above our heads. "I missed you." Her voice was small. "I missed you too." There was silence again. I played in her hair as she traced a finger along the monster truck tattoo I had on my chest. Slowly reality sank in. I couldn't find the right words for my feelings. What was there to say? She wasn't mine. Not anymore and I couldn't blame no one, but myself. "This can't happen again." She said breaking the silence. "I know." "And I think it's best if we don't see each other again." My heart sunk. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I understand." "I don't regret what just happened. I didn't plan for it to go this far, but I don't regret a second of it." She tilted her head and looked up at me touching my face bringing my attention to her. "I needed to see you and make sure you're okay. " "I'm glad you took the time to see about me. I know you have a life to get back to. " I smooth her hair back. "I should leave." She got up and began putting her bra back on. I sat up and watched her slip her dress on. I stood up and helped her with the zipper. I leaned in and kissed her neck, She gasped. I wrapped my arms around her. "I know you have to go, but can you stay just a little while longer. I want to hold you a little longer before you leave." She thought about it for a second. "Okay. I can do that." The next morning, I woke up alone on the floor. The sun poured through the blinds. Rosalind was gone. The only evidence of her being here was a pair of thong underwear laying on my bed,an half empty lipstick stained glass of Whiskey on the dining room table and the bittersweet memories of last night. I picked up the garment and tossed it in a drawer. I climbed onto my bed and turned on the TV. The local news was on. The cheery news anchor was standing outside of City Hall in downtown Greenville. "I have Mayor-elect Patrick Rogers from Greenville here with us this morning. Welcome." "Thanks for having me, Nichole." "It's is always a pleasure. You will be holding a town hall meeting here this morning?" "Yes, and It is open to the public. All are welcome. I'll be answering any important questions the great folks of Greenville have." "That is wonderful, but I think the great folks of Greenville also want to know will your beautiful fiance, Rosalind Clark be in attendance." He laughed, "Why don't you ask her yourself? She's right here." Rosalind walked into camera view looking flawless in a navy-blue dress. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun and pearl earrings adorned her ears. It was as if last night hadn't happen. Patrick put his arm around her waist and smiled adoringly a her. She smiled from ear to ear. "Of course, I'll be here supporting my fiance and to mingle with the wonderful people of our great city." "Is it hard planning a wedding and campaign in the same year?" "It has its challenges, but what's life without them, right? Today is all about the people and we are urging you to come out and let you concerns be heard." "So, don't forget to come out at 10 am. to meet Mayor-elect Patrick Rogers. Reporting live from City Hall, I'm Nichole Bradley. Bob back to you." I turned the TV off. They seemed legit. I made breakfast and got ready for work. While I was in the shower the melody to our song played in my head. It was still incomplete. I was still incomplete. Damn, I want my girl back. Rosalind Clark "Roz, girl are you listening?" Savon, my sister, maid of honor, and recently my self-appointed assistant snapped in my face. Both Savon and the caterer were looking at me sideways. "I'm sorry what did you say?" She rolled her eyes. "I said I like the vanilla coconut. What about you?" We were at the bakery doing a cake tasting, but I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept drifting back to two weeks ago when I spent the night with Sean. Flashes of the wanton sex we had. It was exciting and electrifying. Spine tingling and toe curling. Exactly what I needed. I took pleasure without regret and I gave it without shame. It had always been like that with him. Our sexual chemistry was explosive. He knew exactly what I needed without having to say it. It was good, too good. "Yeah I think the vanilla coconut is my favorite too." "Great! That's one of our best sellers. It's elegant without being over the top." "I was thinking the same thing." Savon said excitedly. "Good choice, sis." She finished giving the baker details about what the cake should look like. What started off as a quick fuck, turned into a deep soul shaking experience I wasn't prepared for. The way he held me after like he didn't want to let me go, that caused some conflicting emotions. As hard as I tried I couldn't stop myself from having those old feelings resurface. The love. The anger. The betrayal. We had something so special back then. He used to be my everything. My father hated him. He said I was too good for him. I never thought that. I saw pass what everybody else saw. Yes, he stayed in trouble and yes he could be destructive, but his heart was pure. When he loved, he loved hard and he would do anything for the ones he loved. We connected on a level that was deeper than love, or lust. It was like our souls intertwined. It was us against the world. When he got locked up the last time I was devastated. My heart shattered into a million pieces. He had just been accepted into the music program at Hilton Community College. He started to come to church with me. For some reason he felt the need to continue to run around with people that meant him no good. I warned him that if things were to go left they would turn on him and that's exactly what happened. I was pissed at him for going out that night. Instead of coming with me to bible study, he opted to get drunk with his friends and party. At some point they ended up stealing a car and crashing it into a mailbox. Luckily no one was hurt. Sean was the only one arrested and charged. Those so called friends of his bailed on him. Then he bailed on me. "Everything looks good. Alright next stop is to the seamstress and then the venue." Savon stood up. I smiled at her. I love my baby sister dearly and I appreciate her helping me out with all this wedding stuff, but she seemed more excited it than I was. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't wait to marry Patrick. If I had it my way we would've went down to the courthouse in front of a magistrate and had a private reception surrounded by those close to us. I'm pretty sure he would've went for it too if it weren't for our parents and the local media. My parents, Bishop Fredrick Clark and First Lady Michelle Clark of Mt. Zion Baptist Church were public figures and well respected all over Tennessee. Patrick's father Henry Rogers, was a former Common Pleas Court Judge who still had major political ties. It was expected that their first born children would have this extravagant affair and invite people we've never met before just to appease the masses. Everything had to be perfect and a ridiculous amount of money was being spent to make sure it was. It took all the fun out of planning a wedding. We had no control over what was happening. The only upside to all this chaos was Patrick's approval rating has nearly doubled since the announcement of our engagement and wedding. Making him a shoo-in to win the up and coming Mayoral election. I couldn't be more proud of my fiance. He worked really hard to get into this position and he didn't rely on his father's influence either. I admired his tenacity and his love for people in general. He was a dedicated man who loved me unconditionally and I was proud to become Mrs. Rosalind Clark-Rogers. Still I didn't feel guilty about cheating on him with Sean. It was like it had to happen. I needed closure and I got it. Now I could move on and fully commit myself to my future husband. The future mayor of Greenville. After we finished at the bakery we were on our way to meet my mother and Patrick's mother Patricia at the seamstress for another fitting of the two gowns I was going to wear on my big day. "What is going on with you today? You've been zoning out all day." Savon asked. "I'm fine. It's just been a long day." "I know sis, but all this hoopla will be over in a few months and you can get back some normalcy in your life." "I doubt it. This is just the beginning. Our lives will never be normal. Every aspect of it is so damn public. I didn't sign up for any of this." I sighed looking out the window. It had started to rain Savon touched my hand. "Roz, are you having second thoughts?" Her question caught me off guard. "No. Why would you ask me that?" "I don't know. Lately you haven't been into any of this stuff. It's like you've lost your enthusiasm." "Savon, I love Patrick with all my heart and I can't wait to marry him. It's all this extra shit that goes along with getting to the altar. I don't have control over anything. On top of that Patrick is hardly around. I know it's because he's still working at the law firm and running the campaign. I just wish he was here with me to make some decisions." "Yeah it's a bit much, but I'm doing my best to make sure everything goes smoothly and if at anytime you need a break let me know." "I really appreciate all you're doing for me. There is no on I trust more with this stuff than you." "You know I got you." "Is there a way you can reschedule the fitting?" I asked hopeful. "At the last minute? You know how mom is." She sighed. "I guess I can." She pulled out her phone and made a couple of calls. I watched as she rearranged my schedule with finesse. That Master's in Marketing was really paying off. When she was done she looked at me. "Okay everything is moved around. I'll take you home, so you can relax for a few days. I scheduled the fitting for Tuesday. I'll tell mama and Ms. Pat you aren't feeling well and take them to the venue, so they can critique the layout. That should keep them preoccupied for a few hours." We both laughed. "Thank you so much 'Von. You're the best." I hugged her side. "I told you I got you." I went home and it was too quiet. My thoughts kept going back to Sean. What I enjoyed more than the sex was the absolute freedom I felt just being with him. No worries. No fears. No judgments. I could truly be myself. It was amazing. What was wrong with me? I had to get him out of my head. He was apart of my past. Patrick is my future. I text Patrick to see if he was busy. He said he had meetings all day, but scheduled an hour for a late lunch and I should come by. I made him lunch and packed it up to take with me. "Hi Ms. Helen." I spoke to Patrick's secretary who was also his aunt. "Hi sweetie pie" "Is Patrick in his office, we're suppose to have lunch together?" I lift up the picnic basket I was holding. "You came just in time because he's in there with that rotten ass brother of mine. He's probably in there corrupting my nephew's mind as we speak." She said annoyed. "Oh no I can't have that." "You want me to buzz you in." "Nope." I walked into Patrick's office without knocking and I could feel the tension in the room. They looked up at me. "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to barge in." I turned my attention to Henry. "Hi Henry I didn't know you were going to be here." Henry stood up and buttoned his jacket. He was a hulking man of 6'6 and the build of a linebacker. "The beautiful, Rosalind." He pulled into a hug. "How have you been?" "Pretty good." "I can tell." He looked me up and down. I fought hard not to gag. I couldn't stand this creep. "If I knew you two were meeting, I would've bought more to eat." "Don't worry about it, he was just leaving. We're done here right, Pop?" Henry narrowed his eyes at Patrick. "I guess we are. I will be expecting your phone call by Thursday, son." I stepped to the side to allow him room to exit. He stopped in front of me. "My hard headed son is one lucky man to have you taking care of him. I don't know what he would do without you." He brought my hand to his lips and gave me a once over. "Very lucky." He winked kissing my hand. "Thank you, Henry, but I believe Patrick can manage well enough of his own." Ugh he makes my skin crawl. I pulled my hand from his trying my best not to look repulsed. Patrick came to my side and pulled me to safety. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" "Actually I do. It was nice seeing you again daughter-in law." I nodded my head. Afraid the words that left my mouth would not be as pleasant. Henry Rogers was a known snake who preyed on anyone to get what he wanted. I couldn't stand him, nor did I trust him. I played nice out of respect for Patrick and my parents, but it was getting old real quick. "Aunt Helen I'm going to put my phone on DND. Let me know when my one o'clock gets here?" Patrick said poking his head out the door. "Sure thing, Patrick." He closed the door behind him and locked it. He let out a huff. "What was that about?" I placed the basket I was carrying on the table. He helped me out of my jacket and hung it up. I wore a yellow spaghetti strapped dress that showed just enough cleavage. We sat down on the leather couch. "The caterer fell through for the charity banquet. I have to find another one in three days. I have so many important people coming to this event, it has to be perfect. Then my father comes strolling in here trying to push his agenda on me. I told him I wanted to run a clean race. I don't want to involve any unsavory people as my backing. I'm not like him. I don't use people for my personal gain." He put his head in his hands. Every time he talks to his father, he gets stressed out. I made it my job to keep him focused on his goals and as stress free as possible. That was the difference between Patrick and Sean. Patrick is a planner. He pretty much has every hour of his day planned out and gets flustered when things go off track. Sean he's the fly off the cuff type. An idea would spring up in his head and he would do it without a second thought. It was reckless and fun at the time. God why was I comparing the two. Sean is my past. Patrick is my now and future. I loved Sean. I love Patrick. Then why was he plaguing my every thought. I shook my head hoping to clear my insane thoughts. I put my focus back on Patrick. "First of all I'll handle the caterer. I know a few people. Second, baby you're not like him. You keep doing what you're doing. You have overcome every obstacle so far. Everything will work out fine. It always does." "But..." "But nothing. Everything is going to work itself out. The people love you and I love you more." I rubbed his back. He looked at me and smiled. "Come here." I scooted away from him and shook my head smiling. "No." "No?" He smirked reaching for me. I made it to the end of the sofa with nowhere to go. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me towards him. I ended up underneath him. My dress slid up to my waist revealing my yellow lace trimmed panties. He looked down and then back at me. His finger traced the lace design around my waist. "You love me?" "With all my heart." He leaned down and kissed me slow and sweet. My body was reacting. He started to pull away, but I yanked him down by his tie. He chuckled as I licked across his thick lips. "Come on baby we can't do this here." He groaned as I licked down his neck and sucked on the skin near his Adams apple. "Dammit." He cursed. "Let me take your mind off of everything." I said against his lips. I loosened his tie and was unbuttoning his shirt. He kissed me again. I pulled him down on top of me. "We don't have time." He groaned pulling away again. "Then I'll make it quick." I was already undoing his belt buckle. Once I had enough room, I reached into his pants. He was hard and leaking precum. He moaned. I pushed him up until he was sitting on the couch. I straddled his lap. He looked up at me with those chocolate eyes full of love, lust and innocence. My handsome fiance. Skin the color of peanut butter. Long gone was the tall scrawny, geeky kid who only wore superhero t-shirts and skinny jeans, who was adorably shy. Now he was lean muscle and although he still rocked his superhero t-shirts on occasion, he now opted for slacks and ties. He still had the tendency to be unsure of himself, but he knew how to put on a brave face when he stood in front of the public. We've known each other most of our lives. Our parents were friends and they attended Mt. Zion. Patrick and I became friends by default because they were always over at our house. I knew he liked me by the way he stared at me. He never made a move on me. Until one day when I dragged him out to a party when we were sixteen. It was my attempt to get him to loosen up and do something fun. While everyone was dancing and having fun Patrick stayed against the wall looking out of place. I walked over to him and pulled him out onto the dance floor. I danced all up on him. Grinding my booty on him until he reacted by grabbing my hips. Surprisingly he was a good dancer. He kept up with the roll of my hips. He showed promise. We ended up dancing all night and having a good time. A connection was made that night. To make a long story short we ended up making out in his car. He was a lousy kisser at first, so I had to teach him a few things. He was a quick learner. Things had gotten hot and heavy. He had a mouth full of tit when our night abruptly came to an end. My father knocked on his window. Someone called him and told him I was at the party showing my ass. Being Bishop Clark's daughter, there was a certain image we had to uphold and twerking in a dimly lit basement was not that image. Patrick took all the blame. Telling my father it was his idea to sneak out. My father probably didn't believe him, but Patrick wasn't a known liar. I still was grounded, my car keys were taking away and I was only allowed to go to church and school for two months. After that night we didn't speak about what happened. We continued on being just friends. He has been there for me and looked out for me when I needed to get away. He saw me through a few breakups and my heartbreak over Sean. He was a nice, sweet guy I overlooked because I didn't think he was exciting enough. A young silly girl I had been. "Oh my god." Patrick said through his teeth. I was down on my knees between his legs sucking his delicious cock. He wasn't as big as Sean. Oh how I loved having that monster sliding across my tongue. Shit! Pull it together Rosalind. Patrick was a little less than seven inches, but it had a nice thickness. I'm able to deep-throat him with ease. He gripped the cushions of the sofa. I looked up at him and his gaze locked on me. I found it extremely sexy the way he looks at me when I preformed any sexual act on him. It turned me on so much, my juices saturated my panties. "Roz!" He threw his head back. I smiled around his cock. "You like that babe?" I twirled my tongue around the head. "Yes." He groaned. "Would you like to cum in your fiance pretty mouth?" His eyes widen in arousal. He swallowed. I suckled just the head. "If you want me to." He whispered. "That's not what I asked you." Popping him room mouth. "Maybe I should stop." He moaned a bit too loud for the place we were in. "No. I mean yes I want to cum in your mouth." He said in a panic. Satisfied. I put in work. Gobbling him up. I worked my tongue over his rigid flesh. "Baby I'm about to..." He groaned like he was in pain. This was my favorite part of giving head. Watching a man totally lose himself to my wet, warm mouth. I prepared myself for the first blast of his tasty cream. I swallowed quickly and continued to work my jaws until every drop was consumed. Patrick's tense body relaxed into the couch. I licked my lips. He groaned. I stood up. He watched my every move as I turned towards the food basket and began pulling out the contents. I pulled my dress over my head. My bra matched my panties. "You're so beautiful." I blushed. I climbed into his lap. "And I'm all yours." He looked up at me. Damn those eyes did something to me. They made my insides quiver. He put his hand behind my head and I brought my lips to his. I swear I could cum from his kisses alone. They were sweet and passionate just like him. I couldn't get enough of him. His kisses moved down my neck to my breast. He pulled the cups down and cupped them in his large hands kissing all over them. Swirling his tongue around my nipples before sucking them as if they will provide some type of nourishment. I was so wet. I needed to be fucked so bad. We were running out of time, so I stopped before things got out of hand. I pulled his head away from my breast. "We only have a few more minutes before your next meeting. I had my lunch. Which was delicious by the way." I smirked at him. "Now you need to eat and I want to feed you. I made your favorite." I reached over to the table and picked up the bowl of chicken fettuccine alfredo. It was still warm due to the special container I had it in. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble." "It was no trouble. I'm always happy to cook for my man. I don't want you getting all skinny on me. Look I even brought you a piece of our wedding cake from the bakery" He gave me a kiss on my bare shoulder. "Thanks, babe." I fed him. And since his hands were free he groped me. We talked about my day and the wedding planning. At some point my bra was removed and he painted my breast with the icing from the cake and licked it off. I purred and giggled in his ear low and sweet. "Thank you for lunch, honey." "My pleasure." I kissed his lips. He pressed his fingertips to my wet mound over my panties. I moaned into his mouth. He pulled my panties to the side revealing my wet sex. A single finger traced up my wet slit and circled my clit. I closed my thighs around his hands. I couldn't stand his gentle touch. I bit his bottom lip. He groaned and kissed me hard. "Goodness you're so wet." "It turns me on when I take care of you." He pressed his middle finger into my pussy. I gasped. He leaned me back on to the couch and began kissing my belly. "Now let me take care of you." He hooked his fingers into the side of my panties and began inching them down. A knock came to the door startling us. "Yes." He called out irritated by the interruption. "Your one o'clock is here." Helen said. "Okay give me a minute." He leaned in and kissed my pussy. "Duty calls, my love." He pulled my panties back up and licked his finger clean. I pouted. Frustrated I groaned. "Mr. Rogers, you owe me." "Whatever you want, it's yours." He kissed me. He cleaned up the food while I got dress. After I was put back together sufficiently, I made sure Patrick was also presentable by fixing his tie and making sure there weren't any stains on his clothing. "What time will you be coming by tonight?" "My last meeting is at six. As soon as it is over I'm coming straight to your place." "Okay I'll be waiting. What do you want to do?" Pulled me flush against his body. "You! Now get out of here before you get me in trouble with the commissioner. " He smacked my butt. I bit my bottom lip. "Okay." I picked up my basket. Patrick walked me to the door and helped me into my jacket, securing the goods. "I hope I made you feel a little better." "You're a miracle worker." He smiled giving me one more kiss before opening the door. We walked into the lobby. The commissioner and his assistant stood. "Sorry, it's my fault he's running behind. I surprised him with lunch today and it ran over." I said in my overly practiced innocent voice. That seemed to work on most men. "It's no problem, Ms. Clark. A man has to eat, right?" "Of course." I smiled inwardly. "Well I'll leave you great men to your meeting. I'll see you later, honey." I kissed Patrick's cheek. "You have a good day and give your folks our best." The commissioner said. "Will do." Patrick ushered them into his office, but not before stealing a longing glance at me. I licked my lips suggestively. Turning on my heels I stopped in my tracks at the look on Ms. Helen's face. "Little girl, you don't fool me." She shook her head. "What are you talking about Ms. Helen?" "That cute little voice of yours. I know your kind." I crossed my arms, "What's my kind?" "You act innocent, but you a hot little thang aint'chu." I chuckled, "Excuse me?" "You weren't in there just for lunch at least not in the traditional sense." I smirked, "How do you know?" "I know because I was just like you. I was a PK too. We put on a face for the public, but behind closed doors we can be nasty little hoes." I almost choked on my spit. "Ms. Helen my god." She cracked up. "Game recognize game little one." "I plead the fifth." I raised my right hand. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. How do think I kept my husband for fifty years? It wasn't just because I made amazing lunches." "Ms. Helen I have to go you're killing me." I laughed. "I'm not judging you. My nephew needs a woman like you. He can be wound so tightly. He needs his juices shaken loose every now and again. You know to keep his head on straight." "You're a mess, Ms. Helen. I'll see you on Sunday." "I'll be there, sweetie pie." I practically skipped out his office building. I might need to stop at he store to pick up a couple of red bulls because I plan fucking the living daylights out of my fiancé tonight and I need him to have the stamina to keep up with me. Once I made it to the car my phone vibrated. I fished it out of my jacket pocket. It was a text message from an unsaved number. 'I need to see you again' I text back. 'I'm sorry who is this' I waited for a response. My phone vibrated again. 'Sean' Shit! *** *Disclaimer- "Their song" is the lyrics to a song by Musiq Soulchild- Me and U. I changed a few words around, but I felt it was fitting for this story.

As I sit here fuming, the clouds have the nerve to look fluffy and float by with out a care in the world. Who do they think they are, being all full of life when I feel like I have been shot dead in the heart? I start my car and start to drive. I need to see that fucker face-to-face for myself. An hour a go I found out that not only is my husband of 15 years cheating on me, but he has been cheating the whole time. The dirty bastard! Seems he prefers to have a submissive at his beck and call. I guess I was just the cover story. I started my day innocent enough. I had a presentation with a potential client and I needed to map quest the address that was given to me by their secretary. Since my husband had left his account up and open on the computer, I thought it was no big deal if I used his id. I was sending the directions to my PDA when his instant messenger pinged. I would have thought nothing about it, if it hadn't been for the message itself: whiteslutNeedsBLKCK:"May I remove the anal plug now, Master?" WHAT THE FUCK? May I remove the...WHAT? I thought well, this has to be a mistake. I will just let them know so that they don't embarrass themselves further with more details. I thought of something tactful to respond to the message. BLK_ZEUS:"I am sorry but you must have the wrong person. Sounds like fun, though. Enjoy your day." I thought that would be the end of it but the person wrote back. whiteslutNeedsBLKCK:"LOL. Will, you are such a joker! But really, I feel like I need to have some time on the potty and I can't do it with this huge plug up my ass. I promise that I will put it back in before you get back over here." Will? WILL? AS IN MY FUCKING HUSBAND, WILL? That dirty muthafuckin' bastard! I can't believe this shit. I almost went out and spent a couple of grand on a new pair of golf clubs for Father's Day. I had to get my composure together. This person obviously knew my husband and had been with him at least one time. I didn't know how to proceed but I knew I wanted to know what the hell was going on. BLK_ZEUS:"Yeah. LOL. You know I like a good joke. Go ahead and take it out if it is that bad." I was scrounging, trying to figure out what to say to find out a little more about their situation. "What time did I say I was coming back? whiteslutNeedsBLKCK: "You are always so forgetful, Will. You said you would be back over after you went to see your dad and drop off your Father's Day gift. Don't forget you are bringing the wine for dinner. My dad loved the one you brought to the cookout at their house last weekend. My parents are looking forward to seeing you again." I start to hyperventilate. I think an artery in my eye wants to pop. My gosh, I think hives are starting on my chest! I can't take this. But, if I really wanna know, I have to finish this out. BLK_ZEUS: "Hey, I forgot all about the wine. Text your address to this number and let them know I told you to get them to send over a bottle of my favorite wine. The wine will probably beat me there." Of course I put my cell number in. Sure enough, there was a text from a number I didn't recognize coming though to my cell phone in less than a minute. I couldn't believe she gave me her information so fast. I called to reschedule with my potential client, citing family illness. There was no way I was not going over to this woman's home. The message, along with her address, includes her name and number along with directions if I got lost. Bitch, you are around the fucking corner. You don't even know how lost I am not getting. Taking a deep breathe, I remind myself: OK. She is not a bitch. She probably doesn't even know about you. Don't make this about her. It is about that bitch-made muthafucker that you are married to, at the moment. At the moment..? My heart skips a beat. Then I think about it. Yeah, at the moment. Ten minutes later I pull up to her home, bottle in hand. From her message, I know that my husband is supposed to be there around the same time. I make sure that I park my car in front of someone else's home so that he wouldn't notice it. Janelle, that is the bitch's, uh...I mean 'chick's' name. Her home looks normal enough. Pink awnings that make me wanna throw up all over her ugly pink flamingos. But, this isn't about me and her. So, I man up and ring the doorbell. When the door is answered, it is not Janelle. It is a tall, white guy. He kinda reminds me of the tall guy that was on Northern Exposure when it was still on TV. John Corbett was that actor's name. He didn't even ask my name as he welcomed me in. "Hey, please bring that on out back. We have been waiting on you." Taken aback, I let him lead me though Janelle's pink house, past all the soft pink walls and dark pink furniture onto the patio. I have never been so happy to see green grass before in my life. As my eyes are adjusting to color, folks start coming up to me and smiling and introducing themselves. The last person to come up was Janelle. "Hey, Crystal. It is so nice to finally meet you." She envelopes me in a big hug. How can someone smell pink? I take a moment to look at her. Why is he cheating on me with this big white woman who is so damn pink? I just can't get this one. I can't believe the whole clan of them know me. How in the hell do they know me? Is that muthafucker Will so kinky that he has been planning to introduce me to a life of swinging and swapping? Nasty bastard! "Uh...Hi. But, I have to know, how do you all know me?" I try not to look if I am completely on the defensive. Janelle comes up to put her arms around me for another tight, pink squeeze. "When Will finally popped the question, he showed me pictures of all his family. He told me that since you were his favorite sister, you guys had a lot of pictures together." She is just smiling and hugging. Hugging and smiling. I think I am going to be sick. "When do you expect Will?" As soon as the words are coming out of my mouth, who is coming through the back door but Will. That dirty rotten rat bastard, Will. Through all the "hi's" and "hey Will's", I move toward him in a daze. He sees me and his whole face goes slack. I turn to the crowd of Janelle's family. I don't want him to be able to pull me away before I let them know the real deal. "Everyone, I am not Will's sister. I am his wife. I have been his wife for 15 years." The crowd falls silent in various states of shock. "Will and I have four children together. He does not have any sisters and only one brother who is in prison for raping boys." I see Will heading for me with eyes furious. Fuck him. I am getting this out. "I just found out today when I was in our home on our computer that he is putting butt plugs up Janelle's ass." I turned to Janelle. "It was me you talked to on the computer. It was my phone that you sent your address to." Will tries to yank me into the house, but the sexy John Corbett look-alike stops him. "Hey Will, man, is this true? Is this your wife? Have you been lying to our family all this time?" Before Will can deny anything, I pull out my wallet, showing my name and pictures of our lives together over the past 15 years. "See here. My name is Crystal King-Darnell on my driver's license. My name wouldn't be hyphenated if I were his sister. These are pictures of our children." I start to break down and cry. "This is a picture from my wedding day that I carry with me all the time." I start to crumple over with sobs. As the John Corbett look alike tries to comfort me and help me gather up my pictures of my family, Janelle comes over to me. "I am sorry. I really thought you were his sister. I didn't know." She looks at Will, who looks as if he stuck in a bad version of the Twilight Zone. "I can't believe he looked into my face and lied to me like that." She looks back at me. "I am hurt and I know you are too. But, I must warn you. Although he hurt me, I can't leave him." I hear her father start to shout expletives about how she is not going to stay with Will far off in the background. "He has been my master for almost 15 years. I can't live without him. I know you don't understand. Just know that I am sorry." Will finally decides it is time to say something. Anything. "Look Crystal, I am sorry. But, don't think you can throw this in my face the next time we fight. White girls are a dime a dozen. I will drop this one and be more discreet next time. That is no reason to throw away our marriage" I don't really know how it happened or when I went from sitting and sobbing to standing and jabbing. But, the next thing I can remember is standing over Will with my fist balled and him on the ground. Seems I knocked his ass out cold. ***** Three months later, divorced and feeling a little bit beat up, I still smile when I think of how I hit that piece of shit ex-husband of mine with everything I had. I am having that flashback and smiling in the middle of Borders bookstore when someone called out my name. I look up and found myself staring into the eyes of the John Corbett look-alike from Janelle's party. I feel so embarrassed on about a gazillion levels. "Uh, hi," is all I manage to mumble and try to pass him without holding a conversation. He makes a move to stop me "Wait,". My skin is crawling thinking how much I don't want to wait. "I need to apologize for the circumstances under which we met." I look at him incredulously. "No, no. It is me who needs to apologize. I need to apologize to your whole family for making a scene during a family get together. What happened had nothing to do with you all. I didn't have the right to disrupt your day like that." There, I said it. I apologized to someone in Janelle's family. I smile up at him ruefully. "And, after all, you all did cover for me when the cops came." We laugh at that. Will got so mad about being cold cocked by me that he tried to press charges against me. Every single person at Janelle's home, including Janelle, told the officers that Will ran into a low tree branch. "That was the right thing to do. My mom said she woulda kneed him in the groin while he was down if she were you. You are a heroine in my family's eyes." He gestures to the counter serving up hot pastries and yummy coffees. "May I buy you a coffee or a bagel?" I try to gently extricate myself from the situation. "Thank you for the offer but I just came in to grab a quick book and head back home. I am not dressed for public really." I glance down at my attire. In my yoga pants and "Just Did It" tee-shirt, along with my pony tail, I look more like one of my teen-aged daughters. "Besides, I don't even know your name." I smile what I hoped would be a nice goodbye smile. "Greg." He held out his hand to me. It was huge. "My name is Greg Saunders." At 5'5, I am not exactly a midget. But, I felt like it as his big paw engulfs my little hand. Add that to looking up a foot or more into his eyes and I feel like a Lilliputian. "It is nice to know your name, Greg. But, I still can't stay." No matter how sexy I think you are. "Thank you very much for the offer though." I smile and head to the counter to pay for my books. Too bad his is Janelle's brother. I laugh to myself. Heck, if he wasn't, he would be completely doable. Yeah, baby! I am thinking about what to unthaw for dinner tonight as I walk to the car. Since my older girls, Tiffany and Diane, discovered boys, dinner has become an iffy affair. Always about what they won't eat and what it will do to their waistlines. Pul-lease! At least my two younger ones haven't fallen into that tr... "Hey Crystal!" I turn around and there is Greg, holding my purse. "You might wanna take this home with you. I picked it up and thought it matched your eyes." He smiled at his own joke. I am mortified yet again. How in the heck could I get so air-brained that I forgot my purse. At least Greg was nice enough to bring it out to me. After being blown off, I don't know that I would have done that. "Oh Greg! You are a life saver! I don't know what I would have done if I had lost my purse!" I reach out for my purse and give him a little hug. "Thank you." Greg smiles down at me. "In some cultures, when someone saves your life, you are indebted to them until you save theirs, Pretty Brown Eyes." He still has his arm slightly around me. I can feel sexy coming off of him. Yum! But I know I can't play with this particular fire. "Tempting. Quite tempting." I run through all my excuses that I usually use for not going out with a guy. I know instinctively that none of those will work this time, though. "Honestly Greg, I think you are sexy guy. But, I don't think I can get past how you and I met." There. I said it. "That is too bad. You are a sexy woman. Very sexy. Just because you used to be married to a jerk and I have a sex addict for a sister shouldn't keep us from getting to know each other." He pulls out his card. "Tell you what. Why don't we email or become pen pals or phone buddies? I have a brilliant personality." He smiles with all his teeth showing and waggles his eyebrows outrageously. I know that if I don't agree, I am going to be here talking to him for another half an hour. So, I take the card and agree to think about it. I know I am not going to call him. Heck, reader, even you know that I am not going to call him. ***** OK. Before you think I just gave in and called him, let me tell you my side. This is what had happened. I was at home, minding my own business and cooking dinner when Will The Bastard (that is his official name now, as far as I am concerned) called the house for the children. It seems that the company that he works for got tickets for a concert that all the kids had been bugging me to take them to. Had I answered the phone and the kids didn't know who it was, I would have cursed him out and played crazy when the kids checked the caller id. (Yes, reader, my ass is still a tad bit bitter.) But, they were there being their nosy selves. So, I had to let them talk to him. And, as much as I hated it, I had to let my girls go with their dad for the night. I mean, I can be a bitch to him, easy. But, I can't tell my girls no. That is why I was at home on a Friday evening all by myself with nothing to do. Then, the girls called to say they were doing a sleep over at their dad's that night. That really is what had happened. So, I thought, what the hell? I haven't been to the spa in a few weeks. Let me mosey on down and do a spa hour or two for myself. After being at the spa from six in the evening until they closed at ten, I was all milky soft and pampered from head to toe. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I went wrong. I went home and through on some Miles Davis. I sat on the bed, naked as a jaybird. Take out was sounding good. I had a menu from the Chinese take out place from work in my purse. I had to dump my purse on my bed to find it. Seems my purse was collecting quite a bit of paper these days. I never found that menu. But, I did run across Greg's number. Tall, sexy, with the big hands, Greg. Yum! I mean...uhh... Anyways, so I was sitting there, sipping on some Chablis and trying not to look at Greg's card. Well, mostly pretending to sip and fooling myself about not looking at Greg's card. I already had the number memorized. Around 11:30, I thought, OK, Crystal, this is ridiculous. Just call the guy. He sounded lonely. Maybe he just wants to talk. Yeah. Mr. Yum wants to talk. OK Crystal...keep lying to yourself. After having this silly conversation with myself, I called him. I had planned how I was going to leave a message on his answering service. I was going to be so clever. I was going to .... "Hello," Greg sounded so sexy over the phone. Yum-my! I could hear the gravel in his voice even over the phone lines. "Hello? Anyone there?" "Oh, yeah. Hello," I tried to make a graceful recovering. "Sorry about that. I didn't hear you say hello." Or just be a goof...whatever. "I just thought I would call the guy who saved my life by returning my purse." A pregnant pause. "This is, uh, Crystal, by the way." I heard Greg laugh into the phone. "I know who it is. I am just surprised you called." I heard him rustling around on the other end. "I was hoping that you would call." My palms were sweaty and I was becoming a little queasy. Too much Chablis. "You know, why don't I call you in the morning. This was too late for me to call." I suddenly felt awkward and wanted to just sleep this feeling off. Before I could gracefully distract myself from this ill placed phone call, Greg made a suggestion. "Look, I know you still feel weird about how we met. But, why don't we just go for a drive and talk about it and clear the air. That way, we can be friends and not feel weird. I want to be your friend." The way he said friend, I knew he didn't want to be girlfriends. It had been a long time since a guy wanted to be my friend. Too long. Suddenly I was feeling old and lonely and divorced and unwanted. It was nice to feel wanted again. Before I knew it, I had agreed to a drive. "But just one drive," I told him. I didn't want him to think this was going to be an all the time thing. ***** Sitting here in his convertible Porsche, I don't know why I am here. Surely because a guy gets your motor running a little bit doesn't mean you should go driving with him. Not in the middle of the night to a lake with a full moon shining and the crickets singing. Stormin' Norman Brown is crooning to me softly, along with the crickets. I thought Greg would be talking my head off. Instead, he is drawing light circles on the inside of my palm and being quiet. I break the silence. I can't just sit there. "Greg..." "Shh..." He moves my head over to his chest. "Just listen to the music and feel the breeze." And I do. And it is so seductive how the wind caresses my skin. It sound be against the law how the wind mingles my perfume and Greg's cologne to make a new scent of its own. Greg's heart is beating so strong and true, I find myself preferring that beat over the sound of Stormin' Norman. I drift off, lulled by the thump-thump. I feel like I am on a deserted island when I wake up. The sky, inky black, twinkles all her stars, just for me. I can feel the cool breeze coming off the lake, makes my skin goosebump. I can feel Greg's...Whoa, hold up. Wait a minute! I shouldn't feel anything of Greg's because I am at home. Then I look up and Greg is holding me and looking down at me with a tender smile. When he knows that I am fully awake, he kisses me. I don't know if even that is the word for what he is doing. It is so soft, I almost can't feel his lips. It is like his breath is caressing mine. I slowly slide my tongue out to barely caress his lip. His tongue comes out to barely caress me back. I pull back a little to look up at him. He looks down at me and grins that sexy half-grin that he has. I reach my hands up slowly and pull his face back to mine. His lips and mine meet firmly this time. Both giving. Both taking. I can feel his arms encircling me, making me feel warm inside. His body, heated in contrast to the cool night air, feels so solid beneath me. As I move my hands up to his silky brown hair, I enjoy feeling the softness run through my fingers.. So different than what I am used to but feeling so right. Greg starts to work his way down my neck, finding all of my spots to suck and gently nibble. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he finds a particularly erotic spot. I moan softly against his hair. My silk tank top, perfect for a summer's night drive, seems to be in the way. Greg is trying to go lower to kiss and lick my skin, but the silk is not moving. I start to take off my shirt. But before I can get a good grip on it, Greg starts to suck my nipples through my shirt and my bra. I can feel him nibbling on them and it feels marvelous. My vaginal lips are swelling and I can feel moisture forming from the excitement. My fingers forgot what they were going to do, but Greg's didn't. He starts to slide his big tan hands, rough with a callous or two, up my midsection and under my shirt. I feel his fingers pulling at my nipples. Twisting and turning, he is heating me up even more. I can't take it and find myself acting like a wanton as I hurriedly pull my tank top over my head and slide my bra straps to the side. Before I can do it myself, he has my bra undone and is looking at my breasts. I never felt they were special, just big. But now, seeing how Greg was looking at them, I never felt more sexy. Watching Greg slowly circle each nipple with his long tongue is erotic. I can't tell you how turned on I am as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of my aureoles. Even tanned, he looks pale against my dark brown nipples. My breasts are overflowing in his hand. He takes his time to enjoy every bit of my breasts. I try to touch him. I want to caress him. He stops me. "Lay here. I want to make love to you. I want to worship your body." He starts to kiss my navel and suck on it. "Let me worship your luscious dark body." Before I can say yea or nay, his hand is under my short jean skirt. My thong is pulled to the side and I can feel him rubbing my clitoris. Not hard or rough, but like he really wants me to enjoy it. I can feel my love pouring out on his hand. Right when I think I am moments away from the best orgasm of my life, he stops. "Wait, I have an idea". Greg gets out of the car and starts around to my door. I am thinking "no wait. Why are we waiting" when he pulls me out of the passenger side. He lays me back on the hood of his Porsche. "Your skin looks incredible against the white of my car, baby," he mumbles before he moves my skirt up to my waist. Instead of his nimble fingers, he moves back into my special spot with that long tongue. I am so happy no one is out here to hear the things that I am screaming as I cum on his tongue over and over again. I can't believe he is making me come so very much. I can feel the cum running down my full brown ass cheeks and onto his car. I am on the verge of passing out when he stops just long enough to unzip his jeans and pull himself out. I want to see how he looks and suck him but I can't articulate that because now he is fucking me. Fucking me with the thickest dick I have had in a while. I feel like my insides are being stretched out. It doesn't hurt though. It feels like heaven. My ankles are on his chest and he is holding me up and fucking me as hard as he can. 'Please yes, more more!" I know all the woodland animals know we are here with all the yelling that I am doing. He is moaning and grinding his hips into me, slowly, deep and hard. I can feel his balls tightening up against my ass as he starts to play with my clit again. I almost throw him off me with the intensity of my orgasm. I feel like I have peed on myself, I came so hard. Greg stopped pumping while I came and just held me. But, when I stopped shaking, Greg lay me back against that white car and fucked me so hard and rough, I knew I could fall in love with him fucking me. I started to talk dirty to him. I wanted him to cum as hard as I did. "Fill my black pussy with your hot cum. Give me all of that dick. You know you want to cum for me." Greg started to grunt and growl as he fucked me. I know he was on his way to cumming hard. I start to play with my nipples. "Will you please fuck me harder? I would love it if you came on my pretty black titties and let me lick your hot cum off of them. You want me to lick your cum off my chocolate nipples don't you?" Greg's eyes got big and he grabbed me hard as he emptied all of his sperm inside of me. When I knew that he had gave me all he had, I slipped down the the ground and sucked my cum and his off of his dick. I looked up at him, mouth full of dick, playing with my pussy. I felt his dick jerk again. I knew we were just getting started. *****

Will hadn't realized that Hannibal had moved until one of his wrists were caught in a light grip and carefully examined, his hand held as though it could crumble and fall through Hannibal's fingers if he wasn't careful enough. The touch was near reverent as fingers hovered over broken skin and swollen knuckles. Will's other hand received the same careful attention. And Will, Will was still trying to process everything. Still knelt over the slowly cooling body of Hannibal's failed project. Hannibal – the Chesapeake Ripper crouched next to Will. If a word was spoken now whatever spell that has fallen around them will be broken. And yet, Will had to speak. But what could he say, his thoughts were rapid, and his mind oddly blank. It was a dizzying sensation. The threat of a panic attack all too real and yet so far away. Will was on uneven ground, and he didn't know where to begin to find his footing. Grasping at words, struggling for the right one Will eventually settled on, “Hannibal.” It wasn't Doctor nor was it Doctor Lecter. Will had used his name, and in this situation as bizarre and off-kilter as this one. It fit. Gently shushed, Will found himself pulled to his feet. Not having it in him to fight, to throw accusations or collapse in on himself over the fact that he just beat a man within an inch of his life and stealing the last of it away with a snap of the neck, Will walked with Hannibal quietly. Soon finding himself in the kitchen and sitting at the kitchen island. It was now that he noticed how his body ached, letting him know he had injuries and was possibly covered in bruises. How will this be explained away? “Hannibal.” Will repeated, only to be silenced as his hands were tended to with such reverence that Will didn't know what to do with. So he let it happen. Didn't try to speak or fight as his hands were gently dried and tended to. Bandaged and held for a moment longer than necessary. It was now that Will felt eyes on him, Hannibal not hiding his admiration. It was enough for something to break in Will and the floodgates to open. “You sent him to kill me! Let him in.” Accusation coloured Will's voice and anger sharpened his words. A test. A test, but for what? What was Hannibal testing, who was the stronger one? The better killer? No. “Yes.” Hannibal admitted it hurt to hear that. Hurt worse than Will wanted to admit to, despite how sore he was Will put distance between himself and Hannibal. Trying to ignore how sore Will now felt. How every hit he took was catching up. “Why?!” Will demanded, what did he do to deserve this? Will wanted to cry and shout and shatter the walls around them to bury everything, so he didn't have to deal with any of this any longer. “You know why.” Hannibal's rebuttal was blunt; the unspoken part was a reprimand directed at Will for being obvious and not figuring or knowing the answer himself. You're smarter than this, it would say in a manner. And Will was. “A test.” Will spat out. A punishment? “Is that it?” Hannibal asked, telling Will to keep working at it. Calm steps towards Will but leaving room between them. Will forced himself to focus on Hannibal. Meet his eyes and hold them. “No.” Will managed. It wasn't a cure, treatment or something for Will to break. It was none of that, and it was all of it. A door that had to be opened with fists and blood. A door that Will himself didn't choose. “You know why I gave you the answers to this case, Will. Now tell me why did I send him to die.” Hannibal's voice slipped through even as Will turned away. An apology, the case was an apology. And this, test wasn't that. Will closed his eyes and played the night over in his mind. Backwards and forwards, making sure he caught everything that needed to be seen and known. How he felt. What happened and how it happened. And then Will put himself in Hannibal's shoes, shoes that fit far too well to be comfortable. The bellowing of his monstrous stag heard in the distance. “I know why.” Will said in a near jubilant and distraught voice. He does, it was laid out perfectly clear on the table for Will to see. To know. Blunt, even more so than the obvious signs on who Hannibal was that no one caught and perhaps no one will. Will turned around, regarding Hannibal. Pushing his hurt and anger aside, because he knows why. It doesn't make it okay. It doesn't fix things. But he understands. “You gave me the answers to the case, without making me work for it on the stage you set. That was an apology, but this. This was a test and punishment at heart, Randall Teir had thought it was a test for him only. A test to prove himself to you, his master. But it wasn't. It was for me... and a -” Will stopped for a moment, collected himself and nearly laughed at the absurdity of all of this before continuing, “- a reward, a reminder. It was that as well.” Shoddy therapy if this was Hannibal's idea as a bandage over everything. Will took a step forward, he could reach out and touch Hannibal if he wanted to. Will met the other man's eyes and watched as they reflected Hannibal's barely concealed approval. Taking a life, fighting for his own life wasn't a cure. This wasn't a situation that will suddenly end the temptations or have him grasping and fighting for life continuously in the future. But - But Will didn't think or feel like it was intended to be. Both he and Hannibal are fully aware that everything will come back, taking down the creature cooling upstairs isn't a permanent solution. Hunting down others, won't change anything either. But neither is a blade across his wrists. So Will was at an impasse. And he had to decide on what path he takes. Because there was several and most end with a bleak future or his death. There are ones that might turn out better for him; those ones frighten him the most. Trying to decide on what path to choose and whether the risks and rewards are worth it was enough to make Will feel like everything was going to close in on himself. The safest place was inward. And it was calling to him. Beckoning him closer. A hand on the side of his face, warm and consuming pulled his attention along the arm to the only one here with him Hannibal. “Don't go in, Will. Stay here, with me.” Hannibal always was the one who could spot Will receding into his mind; no one else seemed to catch on. Will wanted to hate how he clung to those words, he truly did. “You can't hide from this, you have to face it. And I can help you do that.” Hannibal continued, hand still firmly in place against the side of Will's face. Unfortunately, Will didn't get to say anything that would either damn him or trap him. There was a knock on the door, and Will watched as warm eyes turned cold and harder than stone. The eyes of a predator and Will remained silent, stood where he was and watched as Hannibal headed towards the door. Answering it in a false welcoming voice. The voice that answered was unmistakable. Jack. That impasse was back, and Will knows that he had moments, perhaps seconds to pick one. Pick a future for himself. This time, Will knows that Jack will believe Will. That Jack would go upstairs if Will told him to. Jack would forgive Will for being the instrument in Randall Teir's death. And yet, Will tucked his hands out of sight as Jack came within view. He couldn't hide any other sign that he was in a fight. Jack didn't see Will, didn't look into the kitchen. If he wanted to, Will could call out to him. Point Jack upstairs. Point Jack to the proof he so desperately wants, so badly that he was willing to put Will in a gilded cage with the one who initially hurt him and framed him and betrayed his trust. Jack's back was turned towards Will. Hannibal was out of sight altogether. Two people Will had to choose from. Two higher than life people, loud and noticeable and all-consuming in different ways. And Will, he was at the end of the road with a choice he had to make. Jack or Hannibal.       Come say hi: justsimplymeagain 

Bellâcleu led the way into a hall with carpets on the floor, the long walls only broken up on either side by the arches leading to other rooms of the house. The distinct sound of several separate conversations could be heard from the arch on their left. Finally stepping into the room, Steve found himself unprepared for the large amount of people in there. A long polished table in dark wood stood in the center of the room, several people already sitting around it. Some Steve recognised, others he didn't. At the very end, closest to Steve and Bellâcleu at the moment, sat Charles Vane. Memories of their last and only encounter sparked yet another pang of nervousness through Steve’s body. Vane’s feral exterior had barely changed since then, except for his dark hair, which seemed a bit longer and was now adorned with a braid at each temple, collected at the back of his head. The beard covering the better part of his cheeks a couple of months ago was gone as well, making the sharp features of his face stand out even more prominent. He was leisurely thrown back in a chair, both of his feet crossed and resting on the expensive table. Steve soon realised he was staring. Sadly Vane realised a long time before he did, a spark of confusion and spite shining in his eyes. Then he seemingly realised exactly where he’d seen Steve before. The realisation didn’t bring anything nearly as unpleasant as what Steve had been expecting. Vane simply narrowed his eyes, tilted his head a bit up and huffed out an unbelieving mouthful of air, before looking amusedly at Barnes. The Captain of The Black Swan was the second person Steve recognised in the room, giving him an acknowledging nod and suddenly standing a lot straighter and broader, as if preparing for physical movement. This confused the hell out of Steve before he finally spotted the man behind Barnes. Brock Rumlow’s features were exactly as unpleasant as he remembered them. Sharp and brutal like a jackal’s, with black beady eyes currently shining with contempt. Rumlow offensively moved to step past Barnes and do God-knows-what, but only got that far before Barnes’ strong hand was pushing back against his chest, effectively stopping and warning him to move no further. “Why the fuck is he here?” Rumlow sneered, his voice scratching its way into Steve’s ears, making his body coil tight as a string. “Cause I want him here. Step the fuck down.” Captain Barnes’ voice was filled to the brim with ominous threat. Steve could feel his own breathing picking up. He refused to step down, even if a fight in a crowded room with all the most notorious pirate lords and ladies truly was what Rumlow wanted. Said lord continued to push against Barnes’ spread out hand, but now his stinging gaze had turned on the man between himself and Steve. Barnes was having none of his aggressive, non-verbal threats and simply stood his ground, unmoving and silently informing the seething man that he would be the first to move. Brock Rumlow’s rage grew tenfold when he started to collect himself and Steve knew this as a fact simply from looking into those dark pits too deep to be called eyes. In some form, Barnes was Rumlow’s superior, maybe not in this direct situation but Steve still trusted that as the only explanation for the current lack of hands clasping his throat or daggers in his gut. Having to yield in front of all these people couldn’t have been easy on Rumlow’s pride, as much was clear in the violently hateful expression he was fully displaying in Steve’s direction. Steve simply offered him a sneery smile in return. Heeding Bellâcleu’s advice was already an idea blown up, since practically every head in the room was turned their way. Rumlow backed away, every step seemingly burning through him to the bone. Steve wisely chose to walk the other way around the table to join Thor on the other side. This meant passing Vane, who blew out a puff of smoke through the short entertained grin on his lips, before taking another drag of his pibe. Thor and Bojékio weren’t placed at the table, but rather leaning against a small drawer in the background, mid-table. Finally placing himself beside them, Steve was able to notice the other people present. A little longer down the table, on his side and to the left, Romanoff was giving him a slightly concerned gaze. Beside her, closer to Steve, sat Anne Bonny, both of their flaming hair and sharp comprehension standing out in the crowd. At the other end of the dinner table sat a broad man with a long dark, almost black beard. It took no explanation for Steve to make out his name. Edward Teach, or infamously known as Blackbeard for obvious reasons, was not a pleasant-looking man. Somehow Steve had expected him to resemble something more grotesque or brutal, but the man before looked more human than Brock Rumlow, although that might definitely be a biased opinion on Steve’s behalf. Make no mistake, the man manifested himself as a huge grounding point of the group. His intimidation factor was in perfect shape. Teach wore a long and seemingly heavy black coat, not unlike the ones Barnes wore at times. All his attire matched his label, from the dark tricorn with black feathers to the dirt beneath his nails. He was terrifying in a different way. Vane had his cold exterior and piercing gaze, Romanoff her sharp wit and all-knowing smirk. The man at the other end of the table had a terrorising effect based on reputation and theatrics. Most people would need nothing more than a glance of indifference from this man before they’d cower off. Steve found himself mentally chanting Bellâcleu’s advice. Don’t draw attention to yourself, don’t draw attention to yourself, don’t draw attention to yourself. Barnes and Rumlow were now sitting in front of Steve, a wide dining table between them. Another man with a skillfully shaved, light brown moustache sat besides Bonny and between Steve and the table. Steve hadn’t seen him before, but before he could find some qualified guesses from his memory of pirate tales, Thor came to his rescue. “That’s Jack Rackham, or Calico Jack, depending on whether you’re among Vane’s crew or not.” He whispered, aware of the relatively short distance away in which the subject of discussion sat. Again, the nicknames were well earned among these people. Rackham was wearing a light coat in sun-bleached floral print and as far as Steve could observe, the fabric of the jacket was calico. Steve’s gaze wandered to Teach’s end of the table, where he spotted the two other gentlemen who’d been in the bar in Nassau, when he was almost thrown off a tall veranda. He recognised the darker of the two as Benjamin Hornigold. His dark brown hair was streaked with grey around his temples, but besides that, there wasn't all that much to notice. Hornigold had a sharp-cut face that seemingly was cut into one expression at all times, yet the man looked painfully normal sitting at the same table as this bunch. Currently, he was simply nodding along to something Teach was stating, which seemed to be a prime example of his role in this gathering. The other man was Stede Bonnet, as Barnes had told him back then. This man had ginger hair, a well cut jaw and both a broader and a shorter build than most of the other men in the room. His coat was was adorned with a wide range of blue and green hues, creating a contrast to the light orange of his hair. He had several notebooks placed in front of him and the light and calm smile upon his features fit well with his posture of comfort. He truly stood out between some of the haggard and rough people right behind him. More men were standing in the room than sitting, most casually leaning on furniture or walls. They were quartermasters of the other Captains’ crews or just less significant figures just like himself, Steve figured. Finally, he spotted James Kidd behind Bonnet and Teach, the space between their chairs just big enough for Kidd not to be excluded from the conversation. He had favoured a low cabinet instead of a chair at the table. He was still sitting on it though, both legs thrown on top and extravagantly playing with a key in his hand. Kidd’s presence, however much outnumbered by the gloomy characters, served to brighten the room with a bit of carelessness and humor. It made Steve relax, if only a tiny bit. Bellâcleu eventually sat down, followed by Barnes and Rumlow who had been standing until now. Steve noticed this as being some sort of official sign that the meeting had begun. His respect for this woman was of huge proportions and only continued to grow every second. Admittedly, Steve didn't understand a lot of the information being delivered in the start of the meeting. Bellâcleu was citing different merchant and british allied ships, possible prey for the Captains, passing through different trading routes, their final destination and when these were scheduled to leave port. Her information was of more origins than just Tortuga, Steve realised. Major city names like Havana, Port Royal and Kingston were all mentioned. Bellâcleu’s network went far and wide in the british caribbean colonies, which evidently earned her a valuable position in this council. Thor clearly sensed that Steve was getting nothing out of the present situation, so he opted for whispering useful information to him, which Steve was grateful for. “Only Bellâcleu and Kidd are actual members of the assassin creed. Stede Bonnet is an useful asset as a trader and is therefore also sympathetic to the cause. Teach and Hornigold tolerates The Creed’s involvement, but otherwise ignores it completely. They’re mainly interested in a secure future for Nassau.” Steve nodded along, glad for a slight repetition of Bellâcleu’s words. “What of Rackham?” “He’s sailing under Vane as a quartermaster, usually with Bonny. Vane is mostly harvesting the offered intelligence, but he helps out with his good connections and his ship The Ranger once in awhile.” Thor fell silent again when Edward Teach suddenly spoke up from across the table. “Any news on the merchant activity surrounding Port Royal?” Bellâcleu inhaled deeply, seemingly thinking it over before delivering an answer. “There’s no news. The waters are still very active, yet the Royal British Navy has been patrolling those waters quite often lately. If you plan on roaming that particular area I’d advise you only to board smaller Spanish or British merchant vessels.” Teach didn't seem overly content with that instruction. The meeting continued in a steady stream of trading company names and approximate locations of vessels. “Several vessels from The Eastern State Trading Company sets sail from Havana in the next couple of weeks.” Bellâcleu continued explanatorily. “They will all follow the usual route towards Port au Prince through the Windward Passage, but it lowers the chance of competition if you track them down beforehand.” She stopped to take a deep breath, her tone hardening to get a point through. “Targeting royally-supported trading companies is too risky at present, since escorting of these vessels has increased the last months.” Calculation of the expected locations of these ships had no meaning whatsoever to Steve. Bojékio started bouncing his leg a couple of minutes ago and Steve felt about as fidgety in this company. Stede Bonnet followed this up with a report of his trading connections in various parts of the Caribbean, which, judging by the acknowledging nods and easy smiles of the group, was mostly positive and of use. Steve found himself studying the room instead of the conversation, searching for a small distraction to keep his mind elsewhere. The rug beneath the table was thick and burgundy, while the paintings on the walls showed fields and forests in light colours of splashing paints. The painting work was quite impressive, Steve could see that even from this distance. Sadly, he couldn't turn and look up at the wall he was leaning on without his slight boredom seeming far too obvious. He was only ripped back to the present when suddenly Kidd sprang down from the cabinet he had planted himself firmly on, before walking to the table, resting both of his palms steadily on it. Steve had to force his focus back to the conversation to faintly remember that it was Bellâcleu who had addressed him. “A British slave galleon named The Token are scheduled to depart from Charleston, South Carolina, in a month’s time.” Kidd paused briefly, as if daring anyone in the crowd to question the relevance of the information being delivered. “It just so happens tha’ this ship carries abou’ 200 men and women from Carolina plantages in its cargo hold, all of which will be sold to the highest bidder in Kingston, approximately three to four months after departure. We believe these people to be sympathetic to our course, some of them might even prove of grave importance.” Steve noticed the uncharacteristic way in which Kidd spoke. It was entirely unlike him, as well as missing a great deal of his usual swiveling short-worded accent. Perhaps he didn’t feel completely at home in the crowd? Except his entire demeanor served to witness against that theory. Kidd’s high chin, easy smirk and squarely held shoulders was all traits of a man at ease and in control, despite his small lack of height compared to other men in the room. Don’t get him wrong, Kidd’s accent was very much still present in all the uttered vowels, curving around ending sentences and pushing them slightly off of the north-american pronunciation Steve had grown up with. But the present example simply served as proof to the utter control in which Kidd thrived in. Clearly, he could alter the degrees and sounding of his accent, a further addition to the enigma that was James Kidd. Parallel with Steve’s thoughts and observations, Kidd himself was keenly aware of every expression in the room. Barnes and Romanoff was listening with a neutral look, Teach wore his usual mask of mild irritation, Hornigold and Bonnet, on either side of Kidd, kept their eyes forward, evidently knowing that this had nothing to do with them. James Kidd inhaled deeply before continuing. “The Token will follow an alternative course, sailing west of Cuba and through the La Florida straits as well as the Yucatan Passage. They are deliberately avoiding the Windward Passage, mostly due to the fact that 80% of the other slave vessels we’ve attacked in the last couple o’ years sailed through Windward.” Kidd’s fingers were drawing invisible geographical patterns on the hard wooden surface as he spoke, an attest to his knowledge of the Caribbean waters. “The chosen route is much longer than the alternative, which tells us that they’re cautious, maybe even nervous. The ideal location of attack would be somewhere south to southwest of The Island of Pinos. As most know, these waters are more commonly used by Spanish vessels, which almost eliminates the threat of any British ships surveying or even hindering our onslaught.” Barnes shrugged one shoulder and gave a small nod in response, signing himself in as a part of the plan. Kidd returned the gesture, clearly having expected that answer, he then looked to Romanoff. She simply smiled knowingly in response, a short non-verbal conversation seemingly happening between the two lovers. Rumlow’s face was growing more and more sour with each passing minute. Finally, Kidd’s attention centralised at the opposite end of the table, or more specifically, on a certain Captain Charles Vane, who was currently wearing a very incredulous expression. “For this plan to be successful and carried out with the utmost precision, we need several swift vessels with considerate firepower. We’ve got Barnes’ Swan, Romanoff’s Scavenger, Rumlow’s Hydra … and possibly Vane’s Ranger?” Kidd’s tone was precise and urging, dragging the answer out of Vane instead of letting him stall it. Everyone’s attention had zeroed in on the Captain, still with his feet nonchalantly resting on the table and pibe in hand. He was almost staring Kidd down through narrow, sharp and fierce eyes, yet Steve sensed that Kidd might be very used to handling the moody beast of a Captain by now. Vane finally blew out a long stream of smoke through his nostrils, before promptly demanding an answer in a rough inhumane voice. “What the fuck will I get out of it?” Judging by his amused bold grin, Kidd had seen the question coming from a mile away. “You’ll get to rob any other cargo that ain’t bolted down. Hell, you can take the fuckin’ ship for all I care.” “The fuck am I supposed to do with a galleon, Kidd?” “Either chop ‘er up or play another one of your intimidation games Vane, I don’ give a shit.” Despite the two pirates barking at each other, Steve found the sudden shift in vocabulary rather amusing. Vane finally shut up, seemingly mulling the idea over in his head, before agreeing with an annoyed snort. Kidd’s grin was back in full force. “Four combat-vessels should be enough to make them surrender easily, instead of initiating a fight. Maybe we’ll have to worry about an escort, but it's unlikely they’ll try to attract attention to themselves in Spanish waters.” Barnes’ trio fleet and Vane, and therefore also Rackham and Bonny, as addition agreed on meeting in three months time at a certain naval location that Steve forgot the latitudes and longitudes to as soon as he heard them. These numbers really didn’t mean anything to him anyways. From there on, the four involved Captains started to plan out formations for attack as well as visual flag codes to communicate in the heat of a potential battle. Barnes was all for exploiting the element of surprise with their bigger number of vessels and guns, while Rumlow prefered a more offensive approach. He refused to listen to Kidd’s or Barnes’ reasoning, which finally made Romanoff, who had been eerily silent for a bigger part of the discussion, snap back at him. “This mission is all about stealth and mindgames Rumlow. You want to provoke The Token into a firefight, but will you be fighting yourself this time? Or blame your own incompetence on malfunctioning crew again?” Steve felt an underlying past being references, since the snide comment made Rumlow shut his jaw with a snap. The lethal stare that Steve had personally been the target for too many times already returned full force, except now it was steadily aimed at Natasha Romanoff. She didn’t seem the least phased by this. A man standing directly behind Rumlow wore a mask of contempt to match the Captain’s. Steve finally noticed him and even though he was unaware of the man’s position and name, he guessed him to be Rumlow’s quartermaster. The tension between the trio fleet grew for every second ticking by and Steve wondered how long it’d take for Barnes to interfere. “We sail in an arrow formation, The Swan at the tip, The Hydra at her starboard side and The Scavenger at her portside, both ships aligning bowsprits with The Swan’s quarterdeck. We need a distance of at least a 100 feet between the hulls so no collisions will take place.” The Captain’s tone left little room for arguments, as he planned out the formations and demonstrating each ship’s placement. “The Ranger will tail The Swan and keep a similar distance. When approaching The Token, The Hydra and The Ranger will glide to one broadside, while The Swan and The Scavenger will do the same for the opposite. If we’ve got them surrounded there’s a bigger chance they’ll see the fight as already lost, but if they decide to engage this position will give us the upper hand as well.” Barnes has spoken with a clarity and speed that demanded attention. His tone hadn’t been commanding, but Steve suspected that if Barnes started acting superior in this meeting, where all members were supposed to be equals, he would find resistance from several different corners of the room. These people all had power in some way or form. Teach had his notorious name, which could run shivers down every Navyman’s back. Bellâcleu ran a considerable amount of institutions here in Tortuga and elsewhere, while Bonnet and Rackham had strong connections to the merchant trade. They were all different in their functions, which essentially kept the counsel working effectively. Some had a wide number of different goals, but they all assembled in the same room nonetheless, to set aside their differences for the greater good of Nassau. Steve found something especially admirable about this. “Does anyone have objections to this plan?” Barnes final question was urging as he searched the mission-participants’ expressions for traces of complaint. He inhaled deeply when he found none. “A more detailed course of action can be planned on site if we all meet at the assigned location well in time. Our main goal is to board with minimal casualties, correct? The question was aimed at Kidd, who seemed calm and poised despite the sparks of tension still flowing in the air. “Correct. Minimal casualties as per usual.” Barnes nodded affirmatively and Romanoff followed suit. Vane’s attention was confirmation enough and Rumlow wisely kept his mouth shut. Silence filled the room for a short while, signalling the end of negotiations and possibly allowing another topic to surface. Bellâcleu was the first to take advantage of this. She raised herself from her seat, looming above the other members seated at the table, all poised and chin high. “Now ladies and gentlemen-” Steve just about overheard Kidd grumble to Bonnet “I ain’t seeing either of those in here” quietly under his breath, earning an amused grin from the other pirate. “- now to more pressing matters at hand.” Both Kidd’s and Bonnet’s expressions suddenly fell from humored to grave, too fast for Steve’s liking. Bellâcleu’s statement had left a cover of tensity in the air that mostly affected the seated members, but Steve observed Thor tensing slightly out of the corner of his eye. He had no idea what this sentence served as a warning towards, but he also believed he wasn’t alone in that. Several of the men leaning on walls and furniture in the corners looked just as confused as he felt himself. His attention peaked more as the silence settled again. “I’ll kindly ask anyone without a direct seat on this counsel to vacate the room. If you will be so kind.” Steve blinked a couple of times before his brain caught up. He turned just in time to watch Thor get a confirmative you’ll-be-staying glance from Romanoff. The bigger man turned to him, apologies written clear on his face before urging Bojèkio towards Steve with a small pat on the boy’s back. “Can you watch him the next half an hour? He’s getting awfully bored.” Thor looked as if he felt awful and had burdened Steve with the child of Satan himself, but Steve simply gave him a kind smile and took Bojèkio’s hand in his own. They might not be able to understand each other, but Steve still liked the boy quite a bit. Several men from the corners, potentially average crewmembers like himself, left the room together with them. The silence in the meeting room stretched on and not a word was muttered from inside by the time Steve exited through the mansion’s front door. He was now standing on the porch with Bojèkio, having no idea where to go or what to do. The other crewmembers who also left the room were all walking back towards the iron gate and the busy parts of the city, but waiting for Thor here for half an hour really was manageable. They could all walk back together and possibly buy lunch from the market on the way. A small tug ripped him from his thoughts. The Taìno boy was tugging at his arm and pointing towards a couple of horses, saddled and  tied up besides the porch. Some of the members inside hadn’t bothered walking it would seem. Steve quickly budged, letting himself be dragged along by Bojèkio, who probably hadn’t seen or touched a horse in his life. No workers or farmers were in sight, except for the few people walking in the fields far away from the mansion itself. The big animals were lazing in the sun, which was now significantly higher in the sky than when they arrived. The horses, a chestnut mare and a palomino gelding, were both bending and resting one hind-leg, carrying the weight on the point of the hoof. They raised their heads slightly, ears turning forward, when they saw the small boy walking towards them, determined as ever, with a large muscular man simply being dragged along. After a few hand gestures and demonstration Steve successfully showed Bojèkio how to hand feed grass to the horses without him simultaneously stuffing his fingers into the horse’s mouth as well. The boy gave a thrill laugh every time one of the horses would eagerly reach for the grass, resulting in their lips making hollow smacking noises, before pulling each straw out of the tiny hand before them. Steve found himself chuckling as well at the amusing display and utter fascination on Bojékio’s face. The very evident smell of hay mixed with dust and sweaty horse was slowly making his mind drift to a red-bricked building up north. Stables and surrounding woods, once a safe space now fading to a distant but pleasant memory. His mind drifted further, searching for every place he’d ever associated with that smell. The bustling streets of New York, also with riding animals tied up in front of bars and boutiques alike. The quiet backstreets in the outskirts of the city, where horse races would be held illegally, mostly as much needed income and entertainment for youth of the common folk. One of Steve’s university pals had once brought him there, ending in them having to flee across the wet moor close to the shore in order to get away from British patrols once the gathering had been discovered. Horses were more of a luxury down here, at least on the smaller Caribbean islands and for non-Army folks, probably because transport of such big animals could prove difficult. The long stream of familiar longing was brutally broken by a heavy set of footsteps approaching, seemingly picking up speed with every step. Before Steve could properly react and turn towards the sound, a highly unpleasant voice filled the air and left a stinging trail trickling down his back like ice cold water. “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into Rogers?” Steve whipped around only to discover Brock Rumlow standing far too close for comfort, leaning forward as if speaking to a child. Steve felt his resentment and anger for the man flare up together with memories of the actions causing him to feel so strongly. But every tilt of Rumlow’s body and every tiny expression on his face screamed a desire to provoke and fuck no if Steve was gonna make it that easy for him. A small hand clutching at his pant leg finally made him reel in the last dangerous flames of anger. He settled for a dismissive expression and a fake smile instead of clocking Rumlow in the jaw, as had his first instinct been. “Rumlow, what are you doing out here?” A malicious tension quickly flickered across the Captain’s face, fueled by his question being directly ignored, but it was quickly hidden away. Rumlow was transparent in his anger and Steve knew that the other man wanted a confrontation, but the fact that Bojékio was still present and clutching at his clothes forced him to think twice. If he stalled the conversation then the rest of the counsel might just come walking out of the homestead soon. Steve didn't want to count on anyone being his savior, yet the small boy’s safety simply had to come first. Sadly, Rumlow’s grating voice rang clear yet again, like nails scratching down a blackboard. “I can leave when I want to, Rogers. I'm a free man much unlike yourself.” Steve wanted nothing more than ripping his own name from the Captain’s throat and brutally stuff hay down there instead. Still, remaining silent and fake indifference was his best play at the moment so he stuck to it. The lack of venomous response clearly aggravated the other man, who needed no goading to continue his spiteful task. “If you’re here then where is your slave friend?” Steve’s gaze snapped up and turned several degrees colder all in a fraction of a second. An almost invisible smile lingered at Rumlow’s lips, he knew he’d struck a nerve. “Is he on Barnes’ useless stray-dog-crew as well? How long are you truly expecting either of you to survive?” “He’s a free man. As free as both of us.” Steve tone was clipped short. Strained from the effort of not standing up more for his friend. It felt wrong in every sense of the word. It felt like betrayal. “Is he though? He's not that fair-skinned Rogers even you should be able to see that.” Every word struck home, exactly as intended, and Steve had both of his fists clenched in fury. Every memory of Sam in pain on the deck of The Triumph, bleeding out and fighting to stay upright, flashed painfully clear in Steve’s mind. Rumlow’s fabricated thoughtful expression, together with the way he began to square his shoulders aggressively, reminded Steve of a predator getting ready to pounce on easy kill. At that moment he realised that he was going to lash out, the instinct to protect his friend from malicious words woven too strongly into his very soul to prevent it. It was simply a question of time and dedication from the Captain standing in front of him. Said Captain now leaned in even closer, getting in Steve’s face as well as on his nerves. His tone harsh and his words dripping venom as he continued, articulating slowly and surely, making Steve feel every word. “We would all have been better off if he'd died. Even you. Even himself…” Finally, the cord snapped. Steve swung his right fist directly at Rumlow’s grinning face, ready to take the man’s face clean off if that was what it took. For a split-second, he expected the punch to hit its mark, but he truly should have learned his lesson sooner. Brock Rumlow ducked out of the way a fraction of a second in time, fist flying past his face, before planting his own in Steve’s gut with a single powerful punch. All air was violently forced out of Steve’s lungs, making him curl in on himself. Before he could gasp properly for air that refused to come, Rumlow grabbed at his shirt, pulling him off balance, before another hit struck him directly across the face. Steve’s legs, already wobbly from the first punch, buckled under him and he collapsed heavily in the dirt. The right side of his face throbbed with pain, the hit to his unguarded stomach still made waves of nausea through his midsection. His foggy mind briefly caught the nasty-sounding laugh, rasping and throaty coming from directly above him, before a boot dug deep into his stomach. Pain flared furiously through his abdomen yet again, making him gasp for breath even harder than before. Steve wrapped his arms around his stomach, clutching protectively, awaiting another hit while the world were still woozily rotating around him. It didn’t immediately follow. This simple fact surprised him. He’d seen the disdain in Rumlow’s entire posture and the man not taking further advantage of an opponent’s unfortunate position in the dirt really didn’t match his personality. This exact thought convinced Steve to slowly open his eyes. He squinted, the world around him still a mess of blurry colours and distorted sounds, until one clear high-pitched scream rang through the air. Bojèkio was clutching desperately at the Captain’s clothes, trying to drag the man away from Steve, while simultaneously screaming and wailing a long fierce stream of foreign words. Rumlow sneered degradingly at the boy before violently showing him aside. Bojèkio landed in the dirt with another wail and Steve felt his temper rise and slowly push the pain to the very back of his mind. Rumlow was distracted, still spewing nasty expletives with his side to Steve. His mind worked out the move a split-second before he felt his body react. Steve swiftly surged up, grabbed at Rumlow’s coat just beneath hip-height and kicked at the side of the man’s knee as hard as he could muster. The Captain barely had time to vocalise his surprise before Steve used his solid grip and put his weight into it. Rumlow went down with a heavy thump, all air leaving his lungs in an airy wheeze. Then Steve was on him. Sitting astride the man's chest allowed Steve to get two good hits in, one to Rumlow’s jaw and another slightly higher. The man beneath him sneered, thrashed and gripped at his shirt, trying to raise himself enough to throw Steve off, but the firm hand clutching at his collar held him down. An indistinct shout from behind them made Steve falter slightly. The exact words was blurred by his still woozy mind but somebody had definitely called out. Suddenly, he became aware of his own strained gaspy breaths and the bone-deep ache in his abdomen. He was inattentive for a fraction of a second too long. The chance of parrying the quick punch Rumlow threw at him was slim even if he hadn't been distracted. The fist collided with his jaw and threw him off balance and off Rumlow simultaneously. Steve landed yet again on his side in the dust, immediately awaiting the next attack and therefore twisting to face the other lying man to kick his assailant if need be. But Rumlow didn't rush getting off the ground. He simply pressed softly at his own face, checking out the beginning of a bruise, while with a deadly amused expression. That couldn't be a good sign. Only then did Steve notice the approaching figures. Several of the council's members were standing on the steps of the homestead, having just exited through the door. Some looking displeased, Bellâcleu, while others radiated indifference, Vane. The sounds of two pairs of boots belonged to a fastly approaching James Kidd and Captain Barnes. Behind them, Thor was quickly approaching Bojekío, picking him up and fussing over him to the boy’s verbal displeasure. Kidd reached them first, just as Rumlow had picked himself off the ground. “Is civility a fucking myth to you?” Kidd shouted at Rumlow, getting in his face and planting a pointed finger on the other man's chest. Despite lacking several inches in height compared to the Captain in front of him, Kidd still managed to look intimidating and steadfast, a force to be reckoned with. Rumlow didn't seem particularly frightened by the display, rather the opposite in fact. He still wore his head high, a man lacking words such as ‘regret’ and ‘consequence’ from his vocabulary. Steve knew better though. Behind Rumlow’s bravado hid fury from the humiliation of Steve getting the upper hand if only for a short time. The fact that the last part of the fight had been seen by others only served to magnify the rage and disdain already present tenfold. Rumlow’s fury wasn't Steve’s most pressing concern though, that would be the way James Barnes was stalking towards him with lethality to every step and ice-cold concealed anger in his eyes. Steve moved to get to his feet, but he only got halfway there before Barnes reached him and harshly pulled him the rest of the way up by his shirt. Luckily, the Captain let go after that, turning to give Rumlow a malicious glare that spelled out ‘you'll hear for this’ letter for letter. Steve almost flinched when those same icy eyes turned to him and was followed by a voice completely lack of emotion but commanding nonetheless. “You. With me.” Barnes pointed directly at his chest, his glare still sending shudders down Steve’s spine in long cold waves. The Captain then turned on his heels and started walking away from the Compton Estate. Steve followed suit, still uncertain what Barnes intended to do with all that anger. No matter how terrified he'd been of that fury beforehand, when it was aimed at Officers and Navy alike, it couldn't compare to being the actual target for it. Steve could only try to avoid his worry showing on his features for the world to see. Barnes briefly turned again, this time towards the remaining members of the counsel still standing on the porch. All except Vane it would seem, who’s disinterest most likely made him disappear into the house again. The Captain did a half-bow, a strained smile forced unto his features. “Ladies and gentlemen, until next time.” Said smile dropped immediately as he once again made his way towards the big  iron gates. Steve briefly caught a glimpse of sympathy on Romanoff’s face and another one of well-hidden concern on Bellâcleu’s. Wherever the Captain was heading or whatever he was planning probably wouldn't prove in Steve’s favour.   Barnes walked in front of him for several long minutes, with stiff steps and a too straight spine. Steve sensed his anger even though Barnes was facing away from him. It was well-written in the tension of his shoulders, woven into his unrelenting pace and clenching fists. They passed the other mansions and homesteads, gardens and gates almost flying past with the pace Barnes forced them to keep. Not a single word had been spoken since they left the others and Steve’s panic was slowly growing. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he’d missed an important detail. Yes, Barnes had the right to be angry, Steve had punched one of his friends and allies after all, but the amount of fury swimming and sparking in the Captain’s eyes was a strong reaction hereto nonetheless. Barnes had a temper, not unlike Steve himself, but this was unlike even him. Something was missing, or maybe it was just Steve’s hopeful thoughts getting mixed with reality. Truly, he was trying to ignore the chunk of ice churning in his stomach. Wrath was terrifying, but he'd manage and take whatever punishment Barnes could wish upon him, but disappointment? That was a whole other playing field. Disappointment was personal and that terrified Steve in its own right. Because no matter how well he'd try to hide it, this felt personal. For that reason Steve wanted to apologise maybe, even though he couldn't bring himself to regret those punches, or even explain himself if Barnes would allow him to. A personal connection to James Barnes, a ridiculous thought 3 months ago, but now very much a reality. Steve didn't know whether to laugh or cry.   They reached the outskirts of the posh parts of Tortuga, still moving towards midtown with haste. Now Barnes’ stalked the smaller streets, looking for something unbeknownst to Steve. He seemingly found it when they entered a small alley, wooden houses on each side with a narrow patch of sand for path in between. Next thing Steve knew was Barnes hands grappling at his shoulders and swinging him around roughly until his back collided painfully with the wall. His vision began to swim again and his stomach had seized up in reaction, making the hot spikes of pain resurface. Barnes was pinning him in place with his forearm across Steve’s chest, suspiciously close to his throat, both of his hands clutching at his shirt. Barnes’ face and body was inches from his own, but before he could gather his thoughts enough for a reaction, the Captain spoke up. “That was neither the time nor place, Rogers!” The words were forced out between teeth in a wheezy hiss, sending prickling shivers down Steve’s back. They stayed like that, long stretched seconds passing in silence while Steve was too paralysed to form words. Barnes eyes didn’t waver from his for a moment. The flecks of light blue in between the grey was visible in the Captain’s eyes when seen from this close, practically breathing the same air. Eventually, Barnes’ gaze flickered to the right, then to the left, checking the alley for any presence besides their own. He sighed then, deeply, and a small part of the tension seeped out of his body with the released air. Steve even felt his grip get slightly looser, although neither of them tried  to move. “The Taìno village, that’s what we discussed - after you and the others were sent out - that was what all the secrecy was about.” “Oh…” Steve dumbly replied, still not understanding exactly what the Captain was implying. He didn’t get the need for secrecy, surely Barnes’ entire crew knew what had happened since they’d all witnessed it firsthand. Eventually, Barnes grip loosened even more, his arms dropping and hands unclenching. It took Steve several seconds to register that his own hands were in fact bundled up in the Captain’s own coat, which had been the first thing he could cling to after hitting the wall. He quickly released his grip as well, slightly flustered. His late reaction earned him a quizzical look from Barnes, but the man dropped it quickly and returned to the topic of conversation. “The placement of the village was confidential, only the counsel and some crew members knew of it.” Barnes ran his hand slowly over his face, simultaneously brushing a few loose strands of hair away. Most of the rage had dissolved, getting replaced by tiredness and desperation. “It was an inside job. Someone on my crew, or any of the other crews, delivered information to The British Navy. The Officers who received the intel saw it as an easy way to hit both me and The Creed. Two rebellious birds with one stone.” That was it. The last piece of the puzzle. The secrecy at the meeting now made perfect sense. Steve didn’t know what had been discussed, but the council was right to keep it only between the most qualified members involved. “The British know you're working with The Creed?” “Absolutely. A good chunk of The Creed’s enemies are British nobility and they use their position with the King, as well as their connection to plantage owners, to set us two steps back every time we take one forward.” “That sounds … exhausting.” “It's alright. We do the same to them.” The last statement from the Captain was followed by lopsided smile with a hint of pride and resilience. It quickly dropped at Steve’s next question. “So what will the counsel do about the intel leak?” “First of all, narrow down the circle in which classified information is shared. Some parts of The Creed has already been informed of the leak and several of the other Taíno villages across Jamaica and The Bahamas need to be either heavily guarded or moved to other parts of the islands.” That sounded like a task of enormous proportions in itself and Barnes’ expression only served to confirm Steve’s suspicions. He looked tired at the mere thought, still angered and irritated as well, but his gaze was now aimed at the ground and his shoulders slumped. Steve didn't know what to say. The thought of such a massacre happening again made horror spike through his body. He tried his best to repress it, now a certain question burning its way up his throat and demanding his full attention. He fidgeted a bit, teeth worrying his bottom lip before collecting the courage. “Then why did you tell me? If you're minimizing the people knowing the council’s secrets then why did you tell me about the inside job?” Barnes’ eyes snapped up to his, visibly steeling with the anger flaming up behind them anew. That had been a mistake. Steve’s stomach lurched, but it was too late to backtrack now. He was hanging off a cliff already and his unhelpful brain was doing its best to disintegrate the only ledge preventing him from falling to an early demise on the spike-sharp rocks beneath. “Because the council is on high alert and you picked a fight with one of the members right outside Compton Estate.” Each word dropped a heavier metaphorical  stone on Steve’s shoulders. Shit. Barnes’ precise articulation was accompanied by a tight smile drenched in lethality. “Which places you as a figure of suspicion in the eyes of the council and further reflects upon my own capabilities of choosing reliable level-headed crewmen.” Frigid ice filled Steve’s veins, the Captain’s frosty words making it flow through him in harsh waves of reality. He’d only seen the tip of the iceberg and he had acted unbeknownst to the depth of the situation. Too narrow minded in his hate for Brock Rumlow and everything he stood for to consider the bigger picture. He knew of several council members that would speak well of him if anyone’s suspicion grew to unignorable degrees. Hell, he was even prepared to believe that Barnes might speak in his defense, if not for defending Steve then for defending himself. A tiny snowflake landing in the wrong circumstances could cause an avalanche and the outcome of a misplaced fight could have a far longer range of possible conclusions. And yet, a tiny flame was still burning beneath the ice, whispering on behalf of Steve’s conscience. The flame knows that he’d probably do the same thing again if given the change. And this is the ridiculousness of the situation. His absolute reckless willingness to erase context of circumstance in order to protect what he finds of high value. Now consequence is lurking like a dark shadow still unknown, but assuredly agonizing, all due to Steve Rogers’ complete inability to simply be a speck of dust on a wall. That line of thought simply provided him with another question that burned like acid in his throat. “Rumlow, he…” “Knew this. Of course.” Barnes provided, cutting him off. Having his worst suspicions confirmed out loud was every bit as painful as he’d imagined. Rumlow had laid out a trap and Steve had jumped into it willingly. Now the snare was closing in around him. “He might not have planned the specifics, but the result was the same nonetheless.” Steve inhaled deeply, exhaled and repeated several times before being able to collect his thoughts. He wanted to come up with an answer, a solution, anything really, but the Captain’s expression stopped him. Barnes was angry, of course he was, yet Steve was prepared to believe that a fraction of that anger was now reflected elsewhere. He seemed angry at Steve, as he had the right to, but he also seemed angry for him. It very well could be Steve’s imagination playing tricks on him, but the subtle shift made hope bloom in his stomach nonetheless. If there was even a slim chance of Barnes still wanting to stand up for him, for both of them really, if the council voiced worries, then that would serve as a great advantage. The silence had been stretching between them for some time now, neither of them making a move to speak. Barnes was seemingly deep in thought, his brows drawn together. Steve’s back was still pressed against the wall but this time it was done more willingly in order to take strain off his stomach muscles. He could still feel the ghost of Barnes’ arm across his chest and his hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tight. Steve subconsciously rubbed at the tingling feeling, neither wishing it to stay or leave. “So what now?” The question was a stupid one and Steve had known that even before it slung itself out of his throat. It was still better than the uncertain silence making his mind wander. He did admittedly get an exasperated look from the Captain, confirming his own line of thought, before the man sighed and answered him. “I'll be doing some light damage control you'll go to the doctor to get that looked at.” By ‘that’ the Captain clearly meant all of Steve’s face judging by his vague  gestures. Come to think of it, Steve really didn't know how bad it was. He did suspect that the throbbing topped with the occasional sharp flare of pain in his bottom lip might mean that it was split. His right temple throbbed as well so he'd probably find a nasty bruise there if he looked. “Come on, I know someone.” Steve almost quipped ‘don't you always?’ But thought better of it in the last second. “Someone who's not Romanoff?” “Yes, an actual doctor this time. I hired him as our new ship surgeon only yesterday. I can't keep Romanoff off her own vessel for long without her practically taking over mine.” Humour was woven into Barnes’ slight smile and cheeky comment. Steve nodded and finally stepped away from the wall at his back to let Captain Barnes steer him through a different set of narrow streets, heading into the city.

A day after his embarrassing outburst, Nasir was given new duties. He suspected that Medicus, gruff as he was, felt sympathy for him that the cook lacked. In any case, he was called into the medicus’ room that morning, away from the sneering looks of the gladiators, and provided with instructions for restocking the medical supplies. A good amount had been depleted in caring for Crixus, and so he was sent to a storage room to fetch herbs. He was searching for fennel when a faint cough alerted him to another’s presence. He glanced over his shoulder to find Agron standing behind him. “You look as though you could use assistance, little man,” the gladiator said with a friendly smile. Nasir followed his gaze, up to the sprig of fennel hung from the ceiling, just above his reach, and stepped aside. “Gratitude,” he said as the bough was deposited in his arms. He turned back to collect the other necessary jars and plants, but the gladiator did not go away. “Think of it as a debt paid; I greatly enjoyed your dressing down of that idiot Gaul.” Nasir looked around again, surprised. His response was cautiously pleased, although he did not see anything mocking in Agron’s face. “Your words are kindly received, then, although my intent was not to cause amusement.” “If I found amusement in it, the source lay not in your words,” Agron said quickly, with a peculiar earnest look in his eye. “But in Verix’s reaction. Fear was plain on his face; he will not bother you again.” Nasir smiled, genuinely. There had been a half-second, in the midst of the moment, when he had truly felt that it would be better to be dead then enslaved in the ludus. With the roar of collective laughter ringing in his ears, the unfamiliar, uncontrollable rage pulsing through his body and the specter of Verix’s foul touch yet upon his skin... It was nice to know that the very sight of him had not reduced every gladiator to tears of mirth. “Your words bring comfort, and I hope them true. It is not an experience I wish to repeat. Pardon.” He meant to bring the supplies back to the room alone, but the gladiator offered his assistance, and together they delivered all the needed ingredients to the infirmary in one trip. “I confess, I hope there is less truth to my beliefs,” Agron said. “I would very much enjoy seeing Verix bloodied by your hand. His arrogance could well spare it.” Another man would have laughed—Nasir only smiled. “A gladiator without ego is as unheard of as one absent gladius. Besides, even if it could be vested of him, I am hardly capable of such an act.” “Ah, but some gladiators prefer spear or net to gladius. If Verix attempted to call your bluff, he would walk away the loser,” Agron said firmly. “That, I know.” Nasir felt a blush rise to his cheek, though he couldn’t quite understand why. Perhaps it was because Agron was the first person in the House of Batiartus to show him even a modicum of respect—or perhaps it was the solemn sincerity in his gaze. Hardly any of the gladiators were ugly, but Nasir had found very few of them attractive. Now, the simple feel of fine eyes upon his face, and a friendly smile, had him flustered. “I was a body slave to my last dominus,” he demurred. “We are trained in arrogance of our own, not violence.” He began to cut the fennel with the dull knife allotted to him, separating bulb from seed for the cook, and crushed the seed in one of the many mortars. Without direction, Agron moved to do the same to the willow bark. “You are familiar with medicines?” Nasir asked curiously. The gladiator chuckled. “I was a warrior in Germania, and our tribes were small; every man who wished to live learned something of healing. I confess, though, that I am better at creating wounds than treating them.” “A skill that will serve you well in the arena.” “If the gods smile on me, yes.” Agron hesitated. He stepped closer for a moment and touched Nasir’s face. “I would happily demonstrate on anyone who would bother you again. If you find yourself unable to cause sufficient injury.” “Gratitude,” Nasir managed to mumble. He knew his cheeks were aflame again—doubtless Agron could feel the heat beneath his palm. How was he to react further? Doubtless, Agron was offering protection—but was it a kindness to be repaid in bed, or merely a friendly gesture? Still, Nasir’s pride railed against playing the vulnerable whore, but he could do worse than the tall, promising German—for all that Agron was almost as new to the ludus as Nasir himself. Agron’s hand fell. “As would Spartacus, I’m sure,” he said in a neutral voice. “Or my brother Duro—or any decent man, though I fear they are few and far between in this cursed place. Gauls and Romans everywhere.” Nasir smiled at his disgust. “I am Syrian.” “Even worse—so is that smug fuck Ashur. Fucking Syrians seem to be a treacherous lot.” There was a grin on his face, and Nasir felt entirely confident in teasing him back. “Is every man accountable for his kinsmen, then? Or is your view tainted, as your only compatriot in this place is also brother?” Agron smiled. “Duro has earned the name brother by virtue of love and loyalty. I am confident that every man born by the Rhine has value to be called the same. There, fools and hypocrites are called out, not lauded.” He paused, and asked lightly, “Do you have family in Syria?” Nasir’s hands stilled. He strained his memory, but he could remember nothing more but that one flash of sensation from a hot Syrian summer, and the very faint whisper of his brother’s playful shout. “I only recall a brother.” He felt Agron’s eyes upon him, but he would not look up. The gladiator’s voice, when he spoke, was low and as heavy in the air as hand had felt upon cheek. “We have that in common, at least. My memories may be stronger, but… my brother is all I can hold onto of my homeland.” There was something cold in his voice, and distant—something Nasir would not touch. He had been enslaved from a very young age, as many house slaves were. Gladiators, as a rule, were more recently acquired, and many still held onto memories of their pasts. Occasionally, he had heard them share stories, but they were stories told in hushed voices, or quickly narrated and discarded. Even old language was forbidden; Latin alone rested in the air of the ludus. For Nasir, who remembered next to nothing of his tongue, it was not a restriction, but it was with pangs of sympathy that he thought of Agron’s plight. Not content with robbing him of freedom, the Romans robbed him of even the remnants of free memories. Those were thoughts that could only lead the gladiator to bitterness. Let him leave Germania in the past, where it belonged, and clear his mind. Nasir spoke in a light voice. “We have more than that—brand and collar bind every man and woman in this villa.” He looked up with a smile. “And it appears we share distaste for Gauls, as well.” Agron let out a loud bark of laughter. He touched Nasir again, clasping his bare shoulder. “If there are truer words in this tongue, I do not know them. I leave you to task; do not forget my promise.” “I intend to forget it as soon as possible,” Nasir countered. “In the hopes that it is not necessary.” “Gods will it. And if they do not, may my own will be equally strong.” Nasir smiled at him as he left and was rewarded with a smile in return. It was a comfort—a comfort he had not known since leaving the villa of his former dominus. Agron had made no request for compensation, no threats, no unwelcome touches. In fact (he blushed again to think it), his touch had been a pleasure, the most welcome since the stolen moments spent clutching Chadara’s hand in empty hallways, listening absently to her excited gossip. He had not had a friend in a long time. Poor Chadara! he thought suddenly, with a pang of loneliness. There had been few moments when she had been unable to coax a smile from him, and sometimes even laughter. Even when their dominus had been inside her, sometimes she would roll her eyes at him and he would bite his lip to keep a straight face. Inevitably, his place in their dominus’ bed had been filled since then, and perhaps more often. Nasir’s skill as a body slave had far outweighed his skill as a whore, and Levitus may have been tempted to seek a more permanent replacement, now that the thin mat in his room lacked an occupant. Absently, Nasir wondered if Levitus had managed to find a suitable body slave as well, in his absence. Nasir had been the most competent for the position, he knew with certainty; he was quiet, a quick learner, and discreet, capable at both obeying orders before they were voiced and in giving them to the villa slaves who remained when Levitus was in Picentia. But there were certainly less skillful who would be willing to be so elevated. Chadara, perhaps. She had certainly never balked at trading cunt for favor, and she would do tolerably well at Dominus’ side. Chadara would chide at him for allowing his position in the ludus to dampen spirits. So he didn’t care for strange hands upon him—find kinder hands! That would be her advice, though she would frame it in gentler words than the cook. He wondered absently what she would think of Agron…. But then, his opinions and hers varied greatly. Chadara had given up on the hope of gaining respect long ago. She would happily settle for being Verix’s woman, if unable to secure finer fare. There were some things, still, that Nasir would not stoop to. He yet fought. Chadara’s spirit had bled out long ago. --- Later that evening, Nasir sought out Crixus. The gladiator had been ordered to see to the medicus again after washing, to apply a poultice that Nasir had refilled, but he had been absent. Impatient, Medicus sent Nasir to give him the medicine and keep with him. As the former Champion of Capua, Crixus had his own quarters (twice as large as Nasir’s), but they were empty. He was not in the yard, any of the cells, or the baths. Frustrated, Nasir found himself wandering towards the staircase leading to the villa, a place he had not been since Doctore brought him down it. As he approached, he saw a large figure looming out of the darkness, and quickened his steps—then he stopped. Crixus was not alone. With him, on the other side of the bars, was a young woman, a slave with dark skin and good clothing. Their voices were lowered in whispers, and their fingers entangled. As he watched, Crixus lifted her hand to press kisses to each knuckle. Nasir approached again, with a slight cough, his footsteps smacking loudly against the pavement. They jumped apart. “Apologies—from the medicus,” he said, holding out the phial. Crixus took it. “Gratitude,” he said in a rough voice. He moved to walk past Nasir, then looked deliberately over his shoulder. “You will—ah, give Domina my reply?” Nasir bit back a smile. For such a remarkable gladiator, the man was a piss-poor liar. “Of course,” the other slave answered smoothly. Crixus left, and Nasir turned to follow. “Wait!” she called, the ring of authority in her voice. “Come here.” He hesitated a moment. “I must return—” “I am the body slave of your domina,” the woman said imperiously. “An order from my lips is as good as one from hers. Come here.” Ah, he missed that power. Slowly, Nasir turned back and approached the bars. The slave’s composure was near flawless, although he saw nervousness in the ways her eyes flickered over him, attempting to size him up. “I know not what you saw,” she said, licking her lips. “And I care not what you think you saw. What passed between the gladiator and me is the business of the domina only, and I would not wish her to be embarrassed on the account of a worthless ludus slave with more words than sense. Is my meaning clear?” Nasir smiled. “You could be body slave to a consul’s wife and not appear as arrogant as you do now. The tilt of the chin…” Her chin lifted higher, unconsciously, at his words. “Yes. Those are tricks I learned as well, when I was so elevated… Never fear; I also learned silence.” He made her a little bow, and found her dark eyes suspiciously boring into his. A less wise woman would have feared him, but he could tell that she recognized his sly words for what they represented: amusement, respect, perhaps even a hint of jealousy. “What is your name?” “I am called Tiberius.” “Tiberius. I am Naevia.” “You are not a woman I would cross, Naevia, nor Crixus such a man. I will hold tongue.” She smiled. “Gratitude—and good night.” Nasir nodded his farewell and returned to his room. The slight breeze from the window was cool against his face, like a lover’s touch brushing away the strain of a long day. But it had not been so long, nor so straining, as others. For the first time, he went to his bed anticipating sweet dreams.

Pharma woke up to a pounding in his head and the feeling of a large, warm body tight up against his. Well, at least he was warm. Primus knew that wamth was hard to come by on Messatine. There were probably a lot of worse places to be than here in this…was this a berth? Pharma activated his optics and tilted his head. No…it was a sofa. He was lying on his left side, his head pillowed by a cushion. His wings were pressed against the padded chair back, and his cockpit was tucked against someone else’s chest. A thick, plush microfiber blanket covered both Pharma and his partner, who was an unidentifiable purple blur. It wasn’t like Pharma to fall asleep on a sofa. His head throbbed again, and his fuel tanks churned with the unmistakable feeling of engex overindulgence. Groaning, he re-engaged his fuel intake moderation chip. Primus, it was nice and toasty here. Pharma cozied up to his companion, wondering who’d had the nerve to stay the night with him and feeling rather glad the mech had. Pharma could get used to having his berth warmed like this. Big fellow, though…must be one of the miners. He’d been that desperate—or that blinded by the drink? Ugh, slumming… Pharma felt his usual distaste immediately followed by a hot, hard flash of arousal straight to the spark chamber. Fetish. You want it because you shouldn’t want it. Mmmm, heavy armour. Pharma’s hands moved over his companion of their own accord and Pharma found what they encountered to be very much to his liking. Last night had evidently been more educational than Pharma had bargained on. He still wasn’t sure what his sober mind would make of this new revelation; it was still trying to parse the delights of flexible treads and deep growling engine reverberations. Regardless, though, it was time for him to take control of the situation and put his cannon-fodder playmate back in his pace. Pharma stretched, purring, and lifted the edge of the blanket. Looked into a face that was not a face at all, but a mask. Screamed. # Tarn had been dozing contentedly, enjoying the warm, pliable body cuddled up next to him, when all of a sudden the blanket vanished from his face. He’d been hit by three things in quick succession: cold air, light, and Pharma yelling. Tarn sat up, snatching the double-barrelled fusion cannon from its mount on his back and flicking off its safety. The twinned guns hummed as they spooled up energy. Tarn lowered the weapon defensively, his gaze sweeping the chamber, looking for a fight or a threat or… He saw nothing but his own room, his fireplace burned down to embers. No targets anywhere. Tarn realized belatedly that Pharma was screaming at him with a voice like an emergency vehicle’s siren. The DJD commander gave Pharma a rueful glare. “Is that really necessary?” “What did you do to me?” the physician demanded, outraged. He jerked his hands off Tarn’s body and clasped his own cockpit. “What did you do?” What had he done? Tarn was not the kind of mechanism to get blasted out of his mind on engex. Never mind the usual questions of professionalism and reputation; Tarn’s very voice was a weapon. Soldiers could lay down their guns, and warriors could sheathe their blades, but there was no way for Tarn to safely store away his most lethal armament. The only possible answer had been to keep his fuel intake moderaction chip fully activated, and that was what he had always done. After all, what civilized mechanism would waste engex by consuming it while too drunk to appreciate its subtle flavours? Tarn’s gaze fell on the empty bottle of Macaalex Platinum, lying on its side on the end table next to two glasses, and he began to understand. The effects of that year’s vintage had not been overstated, it seemed. An ugly suspicion formed in his mind as he turned his attention back to the irate Autobot medic. Pharma clambered over him and stood on the floor, fists clasped at his sides, wings bristling in fury. Any logical fear of the DJD had been overridden by pure incensed anger. Tarn stood as well, facing off with Pharma. Pharma, who had brought that engex here. Pharma, who had given it to him. “You spiked it,” he hissed. “What did you put in it?” What had Pharma done to him while he’d been under the influence of the doctor’s pernicious drink? “I didn’t put anything in it!” Pharma roared, as though he’d somehow managed to be insulted and outraged even further. “You’re the one who…who pawed me while I was sleeping!” Tarn didn’t remember any pawing. He did, however, remember the white jet easing closer and closer to him while Libretto sang. “You’re the one who cuddled up with me, you…you…harlot!” “I’m the harlot?! I’m not the one who…” Pharma looked suddenly ill. Then he turned on his feet and bolted out of the room. “Where are you going?” Tarn demanded, frustrated, confused and more than a little frightened. Pharma’s response was the sound of a door—Tarn’s closet, of all things—slamming shut. * Pharma had been hoping for a wash station or maybe an archive, but a closet would have to do. He fumbled with the door and found that he could not lock it from the inside. He almost sobbed – the only guarantee he had of privacy was an easily-turning handle – but it would have to do. He had to know. Shaking, he unfastened the clips of his armour and started his internal diagnostic scans. He couldn’t have. He couldn’t have let Tarn jack into him. Surely he had at least put up a fight—but there were no scratches on his paint, no dents in his plating, no scuffs on his joints. Oh, Primus help him. His fans were running hot and he couldn’t get them to stop, and his head was spinning as his fuel intake moderation chip burned off the last of the engex far more quickly than was good for his systems, and his fuel tanks were sloshing with nausea and he feared he was going to be sick. Waking up in a berth with Tarn. It was a couch, his brain helpfully offered, but that knowledge was no help at all. Fumbling with the clasps of the armour—the still-firmly-attached clasps, the completely undamaged clasps, the no-marks-on-surrounding-armour clasps—Pharma pried his armour off. He opened up his medical augmentation kit and selected a mirror attachment, then… Then realized he was looking at his own interface equipment by squatting over a mirror while shut in the DJD commander’s closet. Desperation pushed mechanisms to terrible ends, Pharma thought as he gritted his teeth and got on with it. Surprisingly enough, he couldn’t see anything amiss here, either. He poked tentatively at his valve with his left hand while his right held the mirror steady. Was that…was that lubricant? His fans were running, so perhaps he was just aroused? It didn’t mean the equipment had been used. A preliminary diagnostic popped up in his vision, indicating that there had been no usage of his interface equipment last night. The full diagnostic was still running, but Pharma felt fairly secure that he’d not been the recipient of non-consensual interface while he’d been passed out. Pharma’s moment of relief was short-lived. “What are you doing in there?” came Tarn’s voice bellowing through the door. “Confirming that you didn’t do anything awful to me against my will!” It occurred to Pharma even as he said it that just because Tarn had not done anything awful to him last night did not mean a hideous fate was not waiting for him right now, just outside that door. “If you want your confirmation,” Tarn snapped, “you can come out here and watch with me.” Pharma really didn’t want to leave the closet. He felt a lot safer with a door, however flimsy, between himself and Tarn. On the other hand, he couldn’t exactly stay in the DJD’s headquarters forever. And he was fairly certain that things would not go any better for him, and were in fact likely to be worse, if he made Tarn come in here and get him. “I’m coming,” Pharma snapped back, trying to strike the perfect balance between crabby-and-irritated enough to let Tarn know he didn’t appreciate being ordered around by a Decepticon, and meek-and-acquiescent enough to not get fusion-cannoned in the face by a confirmed mass murderer. Pharma looked at the closet door, took a deep breath, kissed the illusion of safety goodbye, and opened the door. Tarn stood before his hearth. Pharma had not realized that the furled object stored inside a canister mounted above the fireplace was not some sort of curtain but a viewing screen. In hindsight, it made sense that Tarn might want to view movies from the comfort of his couches. Right now, the screen was fully extended, and it was not displaying a movie. Instead, nine small squares showed the same scene from a variety of angles. The scene was, quite clearly, Pharma on Tarn’s lap. Pharma shot a glance around the room. Yes, there were the cameras, recording Pharma’s presence even now. That would be bad enough—Pharma standing here without any obvious evidence of coercion—but the images on the monitors were far, far worse. The DJD has recorded evidence of me making out with Tarn, Pharma thought. The knowledge seemed insurmountably huge, as though there were a wall between the sentence itself and its impact; between understanding words and comprehending their implications. Pharma felt his mouth go dry. Never mind the T-cog quota. He’d just handed Tarn everything he needed to destroy him. Staring at the screen, Pharma watched his past self purring and cooing, ignorant of his own role in his final and crushing defeat. Beaten, Pharma bowed his head. “What do you want?” he whispered, his voice dull. # Tarn wasn’t used to Pharma speaking softly. “You’ve got me,” the Autobot said listlessly. “I surrender. Tell me what you want. Name it.” Tarn felt his own fuel tanks quiver with uncertainty. The evidence on the screen was bad—damning, even—but the matter was not yet out of Tarn’s control. He was alone with Pharma, and the rest of the DJD wouldn’t be back for another day, nor would they return early without calling Tarn first. But Tarn had never seen Pharma like this. No amount of threats, spark torment, physical blows, sensory deprivation or mind games had been able to reduce him into this beaten, complacent thing that stood next to his chair with bent head and drooping wings. “Come now,” Tarn said, sliding his index finger under Pharma’s chin, forcing him to lift it and look Tarn in the eye. “Why so dispirited?” There—a flash of anger, barely contained. Tarn was relieved to see it. The real Pharma was still in there, somewhere. “Tell me,” Pharma growled through gritted teeth, “what you want. In exchange for keeping my mouth shut.” Tarn blinked. To be honest, this entire situation was far outside his comfort level. He had no experience upon which to draw to tell him what he should do next. Something in his brain still didn’t want to accept that what he saw on the screens was true. He’d checked and rechecked the video feeds while Pharma had been hiding, convinced that someone had been tampering with the surveillance footage. Autobot Special Ops, messing with him? Tesarus, pulling a prank? But in his spark he knew no one would dare. And though he was not an expert, he knew enough to recognize that nothing looked amiss in the code. Meanwhile, the dull throb in his brain module and the slow burn in his fuel lines informed him that yes, for the first time in a long time he’d been blitzed out of his mind. If Lord Megatron…or Soudwave…saw this footage, Tarn would find out how all his victims had felt. Tarn would end up in his own dungeon, torn apart by his own DJD, reviled as the traitor that he had become. And yet. Megatron had left him alone for so very long. And Pharma had such pretty wings. Pharma’s mouth—that lovely, poisonous mouth—began to curl in a sly grin, and Tarn realized he had waited too long to answer. His silence had revealed his weakness to his enemy. “I want,” Tarn said quickly, before Pharma got too many ideas about Tarn’s potential vulnerabilities. “I want you to keep your mouth shut. That’s all I want.” Tarn drew himself up to his full height, crossing his arms and trying to look imposing as he added, “In addition to the continuation of our previous arrangement.” Pharma’s smile faded. Tarn’s lip curved under his mask. Yes. It was important that he remind Pharma who was in charge, here. Who had created and enforced the status quo that kept Tarn supplied with T-cogs and kept Pharma dancing to the DJD’s tune. It was important that he keep Pharma eager to please. Because… Damning evidence aside, Tarn would not mind a repeat of last night’s activities. It was clear, from the images on the screen and the afterglow still warming his spark, that he had enjoyed himself. Tarn could make all the evidence disappear. He was so very good at making problems disappear, forever. That meant he could make the evidence of his encounters with Pharma disappear as many times as he needed to. All he had to do was keep Pharma in line. Then he could have… Tarn’s brain spun with possibilities. Was this how treachery began? Not with ignorance or malice, but with this delicious gratification and deep-seated need for a second (third, fourth, and so on) taste, with an assurance that he could master the situation and a confidence that the risk would be worth it? Was this the beginning, then, or had it started when his need for T-cogs became all-consuming? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. His need for Pharma was all-consuming now, and he was the leader of the Decepticion Justice Division, and he would not be denied. # All Tarn wanted was for him to keep his mouth shut? Pharma was very suspicious of the DJD commander’s sincerity. Tarn’s request seemed far too easy. It wasn’t like Tarn to ask only for something that Pharma would have gladly done anyway. And yet. Tarn’s fusion cannon still thrummed with menacing bloodlust. What else could Pharma do but agree? “Of course,” Pharma said, grateful that the panic he felt in his systems didn’t seem to be audible in his voice. Tarn sighed, folding his arms in a familiar “pretending-to-relax-but-knowing-I’m-intimidating-the-hell-out-of-you-and-thoroughly-enjoying-every-moment-of-it”gesture. “I’m honestly sorry I have to say this, but, you do understand that if I find out you…oh, I don’t know…bugged my hab suite, or uploaded a virus into my systems, or something like that, I’d really have no choice but to make your demise something…er, spectacular, right?” He pretended to idly examine his cannon in a gesture that was doubtlessly calculated. Spectacular by DJD standards doubtlessly meant incredibly long and drawn-out, incomprehensibly painful, and utterly degrading, all at once. Pharma felt a moment’s curiosity at just how Tarn would describe “above and beyond” and immediately quashed it; he really didn’t want to know. The bizarre thing his mind focused on instead was the way he was able to take that threat as just business—a necessary facet of their professional interaction—and not some horrible, hurtful, personal affront. “That’s about what I would expect of you, yes,” Pharma said smoothly. Privately he was grateful he’d had so little time to prepare for this meeting; otherwise he’d have certainly investigated some of those options. Hiding surveillance devices in DJD headquarters or deliberately making Tarn ill would be what a good Autobot ought to do with an invitation to Tarn’s personal suite; but Pharma hadn’t come here to be a good Autobot. He’d come here for the same reason Tarn had invited him. They’d both had something they needed. Something the other could give. This encounter was a draw, then. They both broke even. Pharma could live with that. “If the Decepticon Army sees that,” Tarn said slowly, “I’d have to put myself on the List.” “Then you’d better get rid of it,” Pharma said. “Here. Watch,” Tarn invited. “I wouldn’t expect you to trust me.” Tarn dragged the surveillance video to the trash can on his monitor. A moment later, he hit Delete. Pharma watched as the file erased. “And nobody knows unless one of us talks.” Pharma smirked. “I won’t say anything if you won’t.” And, bizarrely, a notion flickered across Pharma’s brain. Maybe…just maybe…maybe he might even consider doing this again. Tarn wasn’t half bad when he put his mind to it. Pharma apparently had a new fetish. Tarn would never tell, because he didn’t want his own teammates to put him on the List. And Pharma wouldn’t tell if Tarn wouldn’t. They both had each other by the throat, now. The thought of a level playing field made Pharma smile. “I want you to promise,” Pharma said with a grin. Tarn stared at him, stunned. “I…promise,” he said slowly, awkwardly, and then…then… Tarn got down on his knees before the flabbergasted doctor and pressed his fist to his chest. “I, Tarn of Cybertron, commander of the Decepticon Justice Division, solemnly swear to hold forever secret the knowledge of our soiree.” Soiree. Pharma smirked. Was that was the Decepticon had chosen to call it? Actually, that name wasn’t half bad. Tarn’s pose was probably taken from some disgusting Decepticon allegiance ritual, and Pharma ought to be repelled, except that he really did like the sight of the DJD’s commander kneeling at his feet. He ought to show some gratitude, so he mimicked Tarn’s arm gesture, and—minus the kneeling—said, “I, Pharma of Vos, Chief Medical Officer of Delphi, hereby vow to hold forever secret the knowledge of our soiree.” Strange. It felt like he was taking his medical oath all over again. Tarn made a humming sound. Pharma got the strangest feeling that he was smiling under his mask. A prickling sensation raced across Pharma’s wings as the implications of their promise sank in, and Pharma felt his knees go week. What they’d just done was terrible and wrong, nothing either of them had ever admitted even to themselves that they’d wanted, an utter betrayal not only of their factions but their very ideals… …and they were going to do it again. Probably every chance they got. Pharma’s mouth went dry. He already couldn’t wait.

It's Saturday, and this month Clint's based out of DC, running prep, update and maintenance courses rather than anything else. It means that when word comes through that Natasha's current op is successfully closed and she's signed off, he plays a brief game of guess-the-bolthole. They both have a lot. Honestly, they both probably have too many, but if nothing else keeping them up counts as something to do when things are slow. Tasha has three in DC that Clint knows of, and he turns them over in his head, gauging probability. And in the end, he comes down on the side of the shitty little bachelor apartment in a complex called Magnolia, because Nat's been Anita for almost four months now. Anita Crane is cold, brittle, bitter, resentful and lethal as hell. She's not straight out of a noir film or a deeply introspective Oscar-bait movie, if only because even the latter rarely deal with the prosaic, mundane and ugly side of being cold, brittle, bitter, resentful and lethal - but she looks like it, with blonder-than-blond hair and ivory-and-porcelain makeup. She has ill-advised affairs with wealthy, messed up men and lacerates their souls when they eventually (and selfishly and cruelly, no argument there) get bored or find her inconvenient, or refuse to leave their wives for her. Meanwhile, she's cost them a hell of a lot of money, and sometimes leaves them a great big mess, and yet there's always someone prepared to pick her up at the other end of it. Even if they just literally watched her rip through the life of someone they know. Anita's not quite Clint's least favourite of the personae Natasha can pull on at a whim, because that honour will always belong to any and all of the just-barely-not-jailbait girls she uses on the real pieces of shit. But she's close. She's had some other names, although the nature of Anita means it's not actually a drawback for her to pop up all over the map, have a trail of mess behind her that someone might mention or notice. Her history ends up being an advantage, not a risk. Mostly, though, Anita's miserable as hell, and the best way to describe Natasha's technique to anyone he's not going to get into fine detail with (which is basically everyone) would be "Method". So while she's Anita, Natasha's miserable as hell, too. On top of that, Anita also takes a while to fade, because her walls of self-poisoning self-protection are just that thick, and that means for a while after coming back from her, Nat's still got her shadow, which. . . Basically, it makes Nat's passage through things that would normally make her happy perfunctory as fuck, and shallow and distant, sucking the joy and comfort out of everything. It also ups the risk Tasha won't notice she's still carrying an unwelcome shadow on her mood and in her head, especially if undercover work goes into something else without a break. Or if the next undercover assignment means staying blonde. So it's kind of a relief when he unlocks the door to the apartment, pizza and beer in hand, that he finds her in the bathroom dyeing her hair back to red with a drugstore kit, with her PPK on the side of the tub. There aren't that many ops that Nat keeps her hair red for, and most of those, the entire point is for the mark to "figure out" she's the Black Widow and go from there. Her hair had been black when he met her. Red is for home, inasmuch as either of them has one, and for work where she doesn't need to hide. Unusual, deep, bright red, the kind that makes her stand out in any crowd, that makes an impression on anyone who sees it, and means that later on if her face isn't surrounded by that red, they have a much harder time recognizing it. She's mostly done working the dye into her hair as he comes in and sits down. "Wardrobe's going to shit a brick," Clint notes, twisting the top off a beer. She's in a pair of shredded jeans and a black t-shirt, sitting in the tub because nowhere else is lined with tile. She's being quick and - for Tasha - messy, although the dye spatters are only ever on the tile and her clothes, and never on her face. Some days he teases her about not being able to do things wrong, but he skips it tonight. "Wardrobe can kiss my ass," Nat retorts, flatly. "I bend over backward making Wardrobe happy they can fucking well deal with me fixing my fucking hair." Clint feels his eyebrows raise. “That good, huh?" he remarks, mildly, and leaves it. Because it's true and to be honest, while Wardrobe might shit a brick, they won't shit a brick at Natasha, they'll just have kittens in their offices and then come out and fix everything. Wardrobe loves Natasha almost as much as they despair of him, and he knows she's done a lot of work to cultivate that. Even joking about telling Wardrobe to kiss her ass means there are some frayed nerves right near the surface. He flips open a pizza box and balances it on the wide tub edge, hands her the open beer and grabs another for himself. Natasha finishes working the dye through her hair, twists it back with an alligator clip and then pulls the glove off one hand to take the beer. She's sitting cross-legged and balances the beer in the middle of the knot; then she takes a piece of pizza. "You know what I hate about the men Anita works?" she says, in Russian, and goes on without really waiting for even an expression in response. "At least the real scum know they're pieces of shit and just don't care. These ones still think they're decent human beings." There are some things Nat only does in Russian. Harsh moral judgements are generally among them. "Ah," Clint says, and then repeats, "That good." "Yeah," Natasha replies, in English. "That good." She takes a swig of the beer and then stares at it, halfway between irritated and horrified. "Clint, this is awful." "I'm keeping us in character," he says, blandly. "This is definitely the calibre of beer that someone who lived in this apartment would drink." She gives him a long, level look, so he adds, "Besides, Anita wouldn't." And after a second Nat acknowledges, "Point," and then downs half the bottle. Clint leans over the edge of the bathtub and mockingly kisses her temple, so that she ducks away and narrows her eyes, says, "I hope you got a mouthful of hair-dye." "Your hope is in vain," Clint replies, "and I also have a bottle of microbrew in the thing you're calling a fridge, but drinking that with this pizza would be alcohol abuse." "It is pretty terrible pizza," Nat says, making half her slice disappear in one bite. "See," Clint says cheerfully, leaning back against the wall and crossing his ankles out in front of him. "You can always rely on me. Cheap beer and bad pizza, delivered right to your door." Tasha flicks hair-dye at him with the hand still in the glove, half smiling, and he adds, "It's grounding, though." "You know," she says, finishing her pizza slice and picking up her beer, wrapping her other arm around her now-bent knees, "you," and she swings the bottom of the bottle at him, gently, "don't actually need to drink cheap beer and eat bad pizza." Clint deflects the vague stretch towards self-consciousness or guilt with a wave of his hand. "That's why there's good beer in your so-called fridge," he replies, blithely. "Besides, it's nostalgia. Or, like nostalgia, except inverted. Is there a word for 'wistfully remembering the past and contemplating how fucking glad you are that you will never actually be there again'?" "Probably in German," Nat replies, and lets it drop. By the time the pizza's gone she's ready to wash out her hair, and Clint lounges on the hopefully non-en-bed-bugged couch with a glass of the good beer in his hand, and another on the battered cheap side table until she wanders out, hair still wrapped in a towel, and drops herself down beside him. "You have cable here?" he asks, as she leans her head against the back of the couch and then rolls it side to side in denial. "But I pirate off an upstairs neighbour," she says, "assuming he didn't get thrown out since I was here last. I think the remote's somewhere in this couch." "I'm surprised the TV's still here," Clint says honestly, digging around until he finds plastic with one hand and pulling the remote out. "Last kid who tried to break in got a face full of hallucinogenic powder," Tasha replies, shrugging. "Guess the scare hasn't worn off the building yet."

Laying at the bottom of the Bone Eater’s Well, feeling a cold numbness seeping in from head to toe, Inuyasha stared dejectedly up at the small square of cloudless blue sky above him. It was a beautiful day, just on the right side of being too hot; at any other time, even he might have enjoyed the warm, balmy air with its frequent cool breezes and the absolute peace and quiet around him. But not now. The quiet meant failure. The dying magic of the well had allowed him to sink into the weightless void between time itself just long enough for him to believe it may have worked, then spat him cruelly back out into his own era. He couldn’t hear the distant rumble of those awful cars from Kagome’s time, or smell the stink of the city she lived in. The air was clean, even at the bottom of the well, only dust filling his nose and the soft song of birds reaching his ears. Inuyasha closed his eyes tiredly. Fate had a cruel way of showing gratitude, it seemed. At great physical and emotional cost, he’d defeated Naraku, thereby freeing the world from his evil. As a result of his efforts, and Kagome's final wish on the Jewel, the well activated one last time, just long enough to send them back – forward? – to Kagome’s era and bring him back alone. Despite all he’d been through, he still couldn’t catch a break. There was no happy ending for him. It was always the same. Fate conspired against a worthless hanyou, disregarded him like everyone else, and thwarted his chances to be happy. Took his mother away from him after a wasting sickness, and allowed Kikyo to die at Naraku’s hands. Then brought Kagome back to this world just, it seemed, to destroy the Jewel... and take his heart with her when she was returned to her own time, her mission complete. Dimly, he was aware he should feel grateful. Of all of them, he was the only one who got to see Kagome one last time after she disappeared into the void leading to the netherworld, to see with his own eyes that she was safe and home. That she was relieved to see her family again, and know it was where she really belonged. But it was hard to feel that way when he'd left his heart, his hope for happiness, there with her. He opened his eyes again and stared listlessly upwards. He couldn't hear his friends up there; maybe they'd figured it had worked and he was with Kagome, and so had gone back to the village with Kaede. Reluctantly, Inuyasha sat up, rubbing a weary hand over his face. He took in a deep breath and realised belatedly he couldn't smell any evidence of the final battle; no upturned or scorched earth, no lingering trace of miasma. He frowned, letting his mind latch onto this minor nuance, letting it distract him from Kagome. Maybe there was another reason his friends weren't waiting for him at the top of the well. Maybe he'd caught the tail end of the well's dying magic and been propelled forward in time. If that was the case, it was anyone's guess by how long. Hours, days... years? It didn't matter. Kagome would still be gone. Miroku and Sango would still be planning to marry and start a family, reminding him unintentionally of what he'd never have. Maybe it would be for the best if they thought him long gone. He could slip away and they'd never be the wiser. Even as he climbed out of the well and planned his escape, he felt a stab of guilt beneath his grief. Over the years they'd travelled together, he had come to honestly care for Miroku and Sango. Even the brat fox kit, Shippo, meant something to him, even if he'd never tell him that. Maybe he wouldn't be able to walk away from them forever. But for now... now, he needed some space. He needed to go away, be alone again, figure out what he was going to do with himself now that his future had been taken away from him. He pulled himself over the wooden rim of the Bone Eater's Well and looked around. Yeah, probably rode the last breath of magic in the damn thing and lost a year or two. Everything around him looked healthy and alive, nothing like a village that had recently seen a battle. Naraku's miasma had withered many of the trees in this area; the forest here was blooming, filled with the sounds of content, chattering animals and birds. The scent of the village was strong, too. He could smell people, cooking, and the fields they worked. Incense from the shrine. Flowers, too. Seemed it was still summer, no matter how many years had passed since he'd jumped in after Kagome. Simple smells of a village untouched by trouble. More reluctantly than he'd expected, he turned away from the village and walked in the opposite direction, back through his forest, avoiding the Goshinboku and the memories that haunted its boughs. He had no aim; his feet simply picked a direction and he followed it, something he hadn't done since before he met Kikyo. It was unnerving how easily it came, even after all those years. He was just utilising an old skill, he told himself. When he needed to get away, why did it matter how he got there? He was out of the forest and on his way to destinations unknown when a familiar youki blazed in the distance and brought him to an abrupt halt. Why did it have to be him? Inuyasha thought tiredly, staring in the direction of his brother's approach. Why Sesshomaru, who would doubtless want a fight? He didn't have the energy now. Even as Tetsusaiga began rattling in its sheath due to the proximity of its twin, he didn't draw it. Couldn't. Maybe he was feeling suicidal, he thought faintly, as the ball of Sesshomaru's youki appeared over the trees ahead of him. Why wouldn't he? It was over. Everything was over. The wind picked up as the ball of light shot straight toward him, and still he didn't draw his blade. He just stared dully as it ploughed into the ground in front of him, throwing up dirt and grass, and reformed into his brother. For an instant, Sesshomaru just stared at him from less than a foot away. Inuyasha stared back, but suddenly with more interest. And shock. Gone was the aloof, superior expression. Gone was the chill from his eyes. Instead, his face was open, a mingling of grief and shock and hope and other things that Inuyasha couldn't even recognise, leaving his mouth hanging open and his mind completely blank of what to say. Then Sesshomaru moved. Inuyasha, thrown off-balance by being able to read Sesshomaru's face for the first time in his life, threw up his hands, forgetting his earlier numbness and inability to defend himself, ready to ward off an attack. But it never came. Sesshomaru's body collided with his, trapping his hands against the daiyoukai's chest, and strong arms wrapped around him crushingly tight. He struggled, but the arms didn't budge. He didn't understand what was happening, but he expected any minute to feel the burn of his brother's claws through his flesh, even though this close contact business wasn't the daiyoukai's usual style, and growled in the back of his throat. When Sesshomaru's face pressed into the hanyou's hair and he exhaled raggedly, Inuyasha's brain once again flatlined and he froze in confusion. He realised, after a few moments' uncertainty, that he was being... hugged. By Sesshomaru. He felt paralysed by the complete and utter weirdness of it all. His hands were still trapped between their bodies, palms pressed against his brother's chest as though completely all right with this. Which he wasn't. No fucking way. He had to do something to get Sesshomaru to let him go so he could wrap his head around this. Who the hell would have thought Sesshomaru would miss him if he vanished? Hell, who would have suspected he even cared? He was certainly vocal enough about hating his hanyou little brother before Inuyasha hopped into the well to try and follow Kagome. So what had changed? Questions could be saved for later, Inuyasha decided, as his brain began to work again. Later, as in when he untangled himself from his brother's arms. "Sesshomaru..." he began, his voice faint and weak with the ever present confusion. The daiyoukai immediately pulled back enough to stare into his face, eyes roaming over every feature as though commiting them to memory. Inuyasha swallowed convulsively as a slender hand cupped his cheek, spiralling again into confused and freaked out silence. "Inuyasha," Sesshomaru said, his habitually cold voice now rich and warm with emotion. "I thought I would never see you again, hanyou." The word that had once been such a barb was spoken with such affection that Inuyasha's automatic comeback died on his tongue, and distracted him just enough that he was unable to react before warm, soft lips pressed against his, breath mingling, the golden eyes so similar to his own closing slowly. The kiss - Sesshomaru was kissing him? - lasted no more than a few seconds before Inuyasha jerked into action, shoving Sesshomaru back and himself away with a burst of strength he hadn't known he had, leaping a few feet away from his apparently insane brother and holding a hand over his mouth to protect it from further assaults. "The hell was that?" he demanded, watching Sesshomaru warily. "Inuyasha..." Sesshomaru started forward, but when the hanyou took a step back to match his progress, he stopped. "Have you truly forgotten, hanyou? About us, about everything?" Inuyasha blinked. "'Us'?" he croaked. "What the hell are you talking about? This is no 'us', and I ain't forgotten anything. Last time I saw you, you were doing your own thing after we killed Naraku, so whatever deranged ideas you've got in your twisted mind about me, they're bullshit." Sesshomaru's face contorted in anger. "Naraku," he said coldly, which actually made Inuyasha relax minutely. That was familiar. "There is no need to mention that foul spider. We saw to his end years ago, as you should know." So I really did lose some years, Inuyasha thought. But it still didn't explain why Sesshomaru was being all weird and touchy feely. "Yeah, I know that," he said with a touch of bitterness. "But the memory's still a little fresh for me." Less than a day, in his mind. Had it really been so short a time? Sesshomaru's face cleared and he nodded in what seemed like understanding - another anomaly, but acceptable compared to that damn kiss. "Yes, I suppose it would be," he said slowly. "I don't know how you managed to return from the netherworld, little brother, but I cannot express how glad I am to see you again." "Netherworld?" Inuyasha repeated dumbly. Then he shook his head sharply. "I didn't cross over, idiot. I went through the Meidou Zangetsuha, that's all." Nevermind the fact that he may not have come out alive - or at all. The risk had been worth it to save Kagome. Sesshomaru stared at him strangely for a moment. "Inuyasha," he said quietly and with the slightest tremor in his voice, a roiling storm of emotion suddenly in his eyes, "you died. I held you in my arms as you breathed your last. The Tenseiga... couldn't revive you." Inuyasha sucked in a breath. That hadn't happened. He knew it hadn't. "No," he said, as calmly as he was able, which wasn't very. What the hell was going on? "I went through the Meidou Zangetsuha. I helped Kagome get out of the void between worlds and return safely to her own home, and then I came back here. I didn't... die." "Kagome?" Sesshomaru's voice was impossibly gentle, his face achingly sympathetic, and Inuyasha's gut clenched instinctively. "Inuyasha, Kagome was killed by Naraku nearly a decade ago."

Eggsy hummed, feet kicked up onto Merlin’s desk as he played around with his phone. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be there; he hadn’t officially been made a Kingsman agent, though when nominations for Galahad’s replacement came up, and that’d likely be soon, he was gonna nominate himself. He’d saved the fuckin’ world, after all, and if that didn’t put him at the top of the pack, then he’d ... he’d … he didn’t know what he’d do. Maybe what he was already doing, popping down to the labs whenever he felt like it, keeping an eye on the rest of the agents out on missions with Merlin. It had taken two months before Merlin finally coded his prints into the system, tired as he was with Eggsy breaking in or finding other ways to get past the security measures at the shop front. Two months, since V-Day had taken out a little more than ten percent of the Earth’s population, though that was still a sight better than the alternative. “That’s strange,” Merlin murmured, and Eggsy glanced up from his game. “What?” “That’s Galahad’s code.” “Harry?” Eggsy scrambled over to the computer, knocking Merlin out of the way. “Marshall Thistlewaite? The fuck’s that mean?” Merlin glanced up at Eggsy, smiling a bit, relief clear in his voice. “It means he’s alive.” -- It didn’t take long for Bedivere, who had taken over as Arthur, even as the rest of the table was in disarray (it seemed Arthur hadn’t been the only agent seduced by Valentine’s plan), to approve a rescue mission of sorts for Harry. Eggsy had insisted on being part of the mission, glad when both Merlin and Roxy took his side. He knew Harry well, and he wanted to know what was happening. And trying to keep him out would just mean Eggsy would go anyway, but without the protection of the agency behind him. It really was just easier to let him go, with Merlin in his ear to keep him on task. “We know he’s being treated at Western Baptist Memorial Hospital in Paducah,” Merlin told him during the pre-mission briefing, bags already packed and an envelope containing a thick sheaf of papers and cash for any necessities. “We’ve made up the paperwork to pass you off as Marshall’s son. You’ve got medical power of attorney in there, too, but consult me on any major decisions. Kingsman surgeons are a sight better than some backwoods Americans, I’m sure, and we need to be sure Galahad gets the best care possible.” Eggsy agreed wholeheartedly. Harry was the first person to ever believe in him, and it was nothing short of a miracle he was even alive. He hated that Harry had even been alone as long as he had. “I can do it,” Eggsy said. “I just gotta get in, check the damage, and arrange to get ‘im back ‘ere. Piece o’ cake, mate.” Merlin eyed him warily. “Take an extra pair of glasses. Put them at Galahad’s bedside so we can keep an eye on things when you’re not there,” he said, instead of the myriad other things Eggsy was sure he wanted to say. “And bring him back safely, Eggsy.” Eggsy smiled brightly, saluting Merlin. “O’course I will. And you can tell ‘im how we saved the world while he took a nap.” -- Paducah, Kentucky was … well, they had a hospital? Eggsy’d done a little research on the flight over, and that was pretty much the only redeeming feature of the town. A hospital with Harry Hart in it. And it was pretty easy to find the hospital, and once he’d shown his passport with the fucking awful codename to the sweet girl at the desk he was ushered back to Harry’s room—thankfully, it was a private room, because Eggsy didn’t know if he’d be able to keep up pretenses with another family a curtain away at all times. “Now, he’s awake, but very weak right now. We’ll let you see him, Mr. Thistlewaite, but try not to get your father too excited right now. The doctor will come check on you in a while,” the nurse said, stopping outside the door. Eggsy peeked in, and yeah, that was Harry, awake, reading the paper. “Dad,” he said by way of greeting, hoping Harry’d pick up on it and wait to question him until they were alone. Since he’d been able to register with his code-name, Eggsy thought he’d likely be quick enough to keep up even now. “S’me, Gary,” he added, pretending to be unsure if he was recognized. Harry smiled. “Well, if you aren’t a welcome sight,” he said, nodding to the nurse that they’d be fine. Eggsy shut the door behind him, fishing out the second pair of glasses and passing them over. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, Harry, scared the shit out of us all,” Eggsy said. “Thought you was dead.” “So did I,” Harry pointed out calmly. “S’posed ta find out how soon we can get you home,” Eggsy said, hesitating before taking the only chair in the room. “Bedivere’s the new Arthur, and there’s three other open spots at the table. ‘m still not an agent, but before we found you, Merlin ‘n Percival were talkin’ o’ nominatin’ me to replace you.” Harry looked at Eggsy, studying the younger man intently. “You’d be a fine agent,” he said. “I ain’t takin’ your spot, Harry. When we get you back home, you can have it back. Merlin can’t keep me out anyway, even without me bein’ official,” Eggsy replied. “‘e says hi, by the way. ‘e’s been a wreck without you.” Harry smiled slightly. “I’ve missed him, too, and you, Eggsy. Should be able to fly soon; I expect I’ll need rather a few more surgeries, and doubtless Merlin wants to supervise.” Eggsy grinned when Merlin broke in over the comm, agreeing that yes, he wanted to supervise, because those American tits likely didn’t know which end of the scalpel was which. “I’ve read the reports about their health care system,” he went on. “It’s a damn good thing we’ve got the money to pay for this little incident.” Merlin and Harry talked for a while, and Eggsy just listened, seeing how Harry relaxed more and more as they covered the most mundane topics, from office gossip (apparently, one of the girls down in the tech department was buggering Gwaine, who had a bad habit of forgetting to turn his glasses off when they met up in cupboards around headquarters) to who was watering Harry’s garden (Eggsy, of course; he couldn’t let the man’s house fall into disarray, even when they thought he was gone). Eggsy flipped on the television, just so any nurses wandering by wouldn’t find it weird that there was a one-sided conversation in the room. Honestly though, he was just so fuckin’ relieved that Harry was here, alive and still himself. Brain injuries were tricky, he knew that, and that Harry remembered him and who he was, well it was nothing short of a miracle. He’d never thought he’d thank Valentine for anything, but his piss-poor shooting was the best thing he’d had going for him, s’far’s Eggsy was concerned. Eventually, though, Harry began to wear out, and Eggsy glanced at his mentor. “Y’oughta sleep,” he said. “I bet I can get a copy of your medical report, see what’s wrong with you so Merlin can have everything sorted out back home.” Harry nodded, though his only concession to actually resting was to recline the bed a bit while Eggsy went to find out what it would take to get the man home. He almost missed Harry’s soft declaration of love to Merlin as he left the room, and Merlin’s echoing sentiment, before he was out of range. -- All things considered, Harry was the luckiest arse on Earth, Eggsy decided, looking over the nurse’s shoulder at the medical reports. The bullet had missed just about everything. Went in above the left eye but missed severing anything important, and went right back out the left parietal. Minimal swelling and bleeding even when he was brought in by a concerned passer-by. He wasn’t even considered really comatose: he’d responded well to stimuli and his vitals had been stellar for someone of his age. The possible long-term damage to the brain was a bit more worrying; there was a chance Harry would have far-reaching problems with logic and reasoning, possibly some behavioural changes or whatever, but Eggsy didn’t care; Harry could’ve been just shy of a vegetable and it would’ve been wonderful because he’d still be alive. The doctors didn’t feel comfortable with him flying, though, not for another week at least. Eggsy sighed, but what could they do? He’d just have to make do with another week as Gary Thistlewaite, staying at his father’s bedside. -- Eggsy did most of the talking when they were alone, just talking at Harry, filling him in on everything that had happened in the months he was gone. For his part, Harry nodded at all the right times and pretended to listen. Eventually, though, after hearing a few more whispered late-night declarations from Merlin, Eggsy needed to ask. “So, you an’ Merlin?” Harry blinked, setting aside his newspaper to look at Eggsy. “Yes,” he said simply. “How long?” “Going on twenty years.” Eggsy whistled. “Damn. That’s pretty impressive.” Harry chuckled in agreement. “S’pose a gentleman won’t say no more, yeah?” “You suppose correctly.” “‘Course, he’s pretty fit. Can’t say I fault your taste, or his,” Eggsy said. “Don’ worry, Harry, soon you’ll be home, an’ I won’t tell no one.” “I know you won’t, Eggsy,” Harry said. “Now, a gentleman also doesn’t go on about his secret-keeping ability. Pass me the business section.” -- Eggsy wished Harry would go on, though. He kept imagining it, and he knew the reality would be better than anything he could come up with. If he were being honest with himself, he’d fancied his mentor since Harry’d taken out Dean’s goons, and every day he’d fallen a little harder, spending time in the Kingsman hospital, waiting for him to wake up. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that Merlin was often there, too. How the fuck’d he miss that? Probably because Merlin seemed untouchable, more even than Harry, who was completely out of Eggsy’s league already. Who’d go for some chav not even half their age when they could have someone older, more experienced, more posh and proper? And that led to thoughts about how they were in bed together—were they loud? Did they fuck each other with the same intensity with which they executed missions, or were they quiet, tender, loving? And Eggsy was hard. Again. He rolled over, pressing his cock to the uncomfortable hotel bed and tried to go to sleep. He would not have off to thoughts of Harry and his boyfriend, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t! The week wouldn’t be over fast enough at this rate. -- Merlin met them at the airport, alone, and it was probably just so nobody else would see their reunion. Just Eggsy, with his sick fantasies about being between them, naked and needy and willing. But seeing them together was … well, it was everything Eggsy wanted in a relationship someday. They just held each other right there on the concourse, whispering soft words meant only for each other, gentle touches of reassurance and love. The kind of love Eggsy thought his mum had had for his dad, long before everything fell apart and they ended up down in the council estates with fucking Dean and a hopelessly bleak future for both Eggsy and his sister. He looked away, feeling uncomfortable seeing the closeness, turning back only when Harry set a hand on his shoulder and leading him down to Merlin’s car. The drive to the Kingsman estate was unremarkable, and Harry walked himself into the medical ward, Merlin and Eggsy right behind him. Even Merlin had to admit that the doctors in America hadn’t completely bollocksed everything up, but he wanted an all-clear from their own. An overnight stay, and some follow-up visits in the future, and Harry would be fine. Eggsy slipped out while they were talking, wishing he didn’t feel so out of his depth. He’d never backed down from anything before, but spending too much time with the men was going to make him want things. Fuck. He needed to see if Roxy was in town and go get himself shitfaced. -- The next few weeks were awful. Eggsy spent a lot of time down with Harry when Merlin was busy with other agents so he wouldn’t be alone—the difference was that here, at least, he was home. The doctors were still testing him every now and again to see if he’d lost any motor skills (there was a slight shake to his hands, just enough that Harry wouldn’t be going on any missions that would require gun use without backup, and sometimes his legs would lock up a bit, like they’d forgotten what their purpose was) and language skills (every now and then the words took longer, but he didn’t seem to have any massive cognitive loss). He always made a break for it before Merlin joined them; it was hard to not ask Harry all his questions, and having the man’s partner there wouldn’t make it easier. “S’it bother you that you ain’t goin’ out on missions?” Eggsy asked one day, after they’d spent time at the shooting range, seeing how steady he was with a gun. “I’ll still go out, Eggsy,” Harry said. “Yeah, but not for the good stuff. Gonna end up doing shit like stakeouts nobody else wants.” Harry smiled wryly. “I’ll make do,” he said. “Maybe you can nick the Arthur position from Bedivere,” Eggsy went on. “Then at least you’d have somethin’ to do without it bein’ borin’ as ‘ell. I think ‘e misses bein’ out in the field, too—an’ anyway, you’ve got more experience’n ‘im. An’ then you’d be with Merlin ‘ere all the time.” “I’m fine, Eggsy. I may not be cleared for field duty, but I’m not dead yet.” Eggsy set his gun down, shoulders stiff. “Too fuckin’ close, though. I fuckin’ saw it.” Harry turned to the younger man, squeezing his shoulder, willing him to relax. “You knew this was a dangerous place to work,” he said calmly. “I’ve been lucky so far, and will continue to be so for a long time. All of us, we’re good at what we do, the best, and you need to trust that, Eggsy. You’ll soon be one of us—I’ll be making you my candidate again for the next recruitment, if they don’t just give you a position for your trouble.” “I ain’t shootin’ me dog this time, neither.” -- “Oi, Harry, how long till you’re up for a pint?” Eggsy asked as he peeked into the lab, where Harry and Merlin were going over old missions and testing the extent of Harry’s memory. “Thing is, I’m dyin’ to hit up the pub, an’ I’m sure you’re ready to get away from Merlin for a while. Just watchin’ ‘im round ‘ere makes me nervous. Sure it’s worse when ‘e’s always hangin’ offa you.” “He’s not cleared for anything strenuous,” Merlin said, but Harry smiled. “I’d enjoy going out,” he said, “and I won’t do anything too strenuous, Merlin, do stop treating me like I’m fragile.” “You were shot in the head, Harry. I’m allowed to worry.” “Worry, yes. But you’re acting like a mother hen. It’s a pint down at the pub. I’m sure you’d be welcome to join us if you were so inclined,” Harry said, and Eggsy nodded. “Sure, if you wanna come, you can.” Merlin sighed. “Just bring him back in one piece, Eggsy.” Eggsy grinned and bowed mockingly, waiting for Harry to join him. “Let’s book it, bruv.” The pub was loud, dirty, and dark—but the pints were cheap. And Harry was sitting across from him, and Eggsy just smiled. “Better’n our last trip to a pub, yeah?” he asked as Harry finished the Guinness. “Nobody interruptin’ your drink.” Harry smiled. “A much better trip,” he agreed, watching Eggsy closely for a minute. “All right, just ask me whatever it is you’re dying to ask me.” “What makes you think I wanna ask anythin’?” “How did you ever pass Social Cues, Eggsy? You’re a textbook case of anxiety—you’re toying with your drink more than actually drinking it—a waste of a good pint of ale, might I add—you’ve opened your mouth to speak and slammed it shut, only to ask me inane questions every few minutes, your eyes keep darting around as if you’re worried of being overheard …” “All right, all right, I get it!” Eggsy said, shaking his head. “Just—you’re gonna tell me it ain’t proper.” Harry just watched him calmly, quietly. Eggsy knew he was going to break under that sort of scrutiny. He could stand it from anyone else, but not from Harry. Harry had always been different. He managed almost a full minute before he sighed and gave in. “I just keep thinkin’ ‘bout you an’ Merlin,” Eggsy finally said softly. “It’s … d’you … are you … I mean, s’like, how?” “Do try to speak English, Eggsy.” “How’s it work? S’not like regular office romances—ain’t gotta shag other people in most jobs.” Harry was silent for a moment, considering. “Merlin and I have had plenty of time to learn to separate our feelings from the work we do. As you know, communication is an important skill, one that we’ve mastered between our interactions both at work and at home.” Eggsy nodded. “Does ‘e even have a home? Ain’t never seem ‘im leave headquarters ‘cept V-Day.” Harry laughed. “Merlin does not live at Kingsman headquarters. I used to tease him about that all the time, how much time he spends there monitoring missions and working with agents and recruits.” “New recruits’re comin’ in soon, aren’ they?” “I believe they’re to be nominated by next week.” “So if I ain’t in ‘em, an’ Merlin’s busy watchin’ ‘em …” Eggsy began, then bit his tongue. Christ, he was such a dumb fuck, mooning over his mentor like he had a shot. Harry, for his part, merely watched Eggsy gather his thoughts, not pressuring him or even looking to judge him. “I just. Forget it.” Harry just kept staring, and Eggsy squirmed in his seat, running his fingers along the edge of his glass and refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. This time, he didn’t break. -- Eggsy wasn’t going through the recruitment process again. He’d been given the codename of Geraint, after Harry, Merlin, and Roxy vouched for him, reminding everyone that he’d saved the world—to say nothing of the fucking Kingsman agency and all of them, ta very much. That meant Merlin was busy with the new recruits. Of course, neither Eggsy nor Harry was always around headquarters, being sent on missions halfway around the world and back the other way, but nothing too strenuous. It was like all the bad guys were taking a holiday, so Eggsy’s missions were mostly surveillance or busting up small-time drug dealers. Rather boring, and he made sure to let his handlers know that he was less than pleased with being bored out of his mind. It was another night, another mission in Italy, this time just watching a man who was suspected of selling kids as sex slaves when someone other than his current handler broke in: “Do shut up, Geraint.” “Galahad? Ain’t you still in Russia?” “Merlin patched me through. Apparently you’ve spent the past month pissing off enough handlers that I’ve been recruited to put you in line.” Eggsy shivered a bit at the thought of just how Harry could do that. “Any plans on how ta do that, or are you jus’ talkin’ to hear yourself talk?” he asked before he could shut his stupid fucking mouth. He could hear Harry’s eyebrow raising just a bit, that little bit of intrigue and amusement, knowing how easily he could convey any other emotion he wanted to impart in that tiny movement. “Maybe I’ll gag you,” Harry said, as if he was really considering it. “Fuckin’ tease,” Eggsy muttered. “Don’t say shit like that if you ain’t gonna follow through.” “Who says I won’t?” Harry replied, and the connection cut out before Eggsy could process that. -- ‘Maybe I’ll gag you.’ Eggsy palmed himself, just trying to get his stupid cock to behave. He’d managed to make it through Italy without incident, and enough information that the fucker selling children would be going away for a long time, but Harry’s words stuck with him longer than he’d hoped. How could they not? All Eggsy could do was think of what else would happen once he was gagged by the man of his dreams. Maybe he’d be tied down to the bed, then. Maybe stripped naked. Maybe fucked so hard he’d walk funny for a week and Medical would be asking if he was all right. He tugged his cock a little harder, with a little more purpose, and his recently discarded tie. Imagined it was Harry’s hand teasing him, as cool as collected as he ever was, as skilled at handjobs as at taking down a dozen Russian mobsters—both executed without breaking a sweat, of course. A gentleman probably doesn’t even have proper sweat glands. Eggsy’d tease Harry for that, except he’d still have that gag in. That fucking gag. Eggsy was good with his mouth. He knew it, everyone he’d gone down on knew it, and he’d never thought the idea of not being able to use it would get him so hard he could hammer nails. But like in all things, Harry shifted his perspectives in this, too. He imagined Harry going down on him instead, gagging on his not-terribly-unimpressive prick, drool sliding down his chin and dripping on Eggsy’s balls, already so close from the sight of Harry’s mouth stretched around him. Harry would be tugging on his own prick even as Eggsy moaned through the gag, begging for more, fuck, Harry— He wondered if it was easy to get come stains out of silk ties. -- The next mission he had was a bit more intense. Plus there was the added bonus of going with Harry, even though it just meant he wasn’t alone on stakeout. They were supposed to do a quick in-and-out, get some information off a girl’s phone about some nuclear weapons. Not hard at all. Just watch her for a few days, get a feel for her routine, then bump into her and chat her up until an opening appeared to get her phone away from her for a few minutes. Everything was going according to plan, and nine days into their mission, they had their opening. Eggsy’d joined her for a night out dancing, and she’d left her bag with him while she went to the loo. He pulled her phone out and began copying the information to the reader Merlin had provided for him. Easy shit. Well, until her guards busted in right in the middle of the extraction, anyway. Eggsy burst into action, calling for backup though he was pretty sure he’d be able to hold his own. There were ten of them, but none of them looked too tough, and none of them had had the training Eggsy had, neither. He was doing a good job holding his own, getting a few bruises, a few shots fired at him that bounced harmlessly off his suitcoat, and he’d managed to avoid the knife aimed for his kidneys with a rough elbow to the guy’s face. Harry came in right about the point Eggsy took the butt of a handgun to the head, dizzying him enough that he’d not have a chance of beating the last four guys on his own. “Don’t worry, Geraint. I’ve got you,” Harry said, and Eggsy fought to stay awake. He loved watching Harry fight, even had back when he couldn’t control himself and got shot for his troubles. But watching him was like how he imagined people watched ballet—graceful, precise, and fucking hot. Probably better naked. Wait, what? Eggsy screwed up his face. That was definitely a concussion talking, but he managed to keep himself awake until the fight was over, and Harry helped him up, supporting him back to their hotel, where he was finally allowed to rest, at least for a while. -- Medical kept him for another few days, days which Eggsy spent mostly asleep. He wasn’t allowed to do anything, so the few times he was awake it was a pleasure to see Harry or Roxy or Merlin step in to check on him. “I’m bored,” Eggsy sighed as Harry entered the room, two trays with lunch in hand. “Am I even allowed to eat, or is that gonna be too taxin’ on me brain?” he snapped. “If you’re going to act like a child, we won’t be able to secure your release,” Harry said calmly. “What?” “Merlin and I have spoken with the doctors, and as long as you’ve got supervision, you’re cleared for all non-mission, non-strenuous activity,” Harry expanded, setting Eggsy’s tray over his lap. “We agreed that you’re to come home with me until such time as you’re fully cleared. Eat now.” Eggsy blinked, but did as Harry ordered. Anything to get out of Medical, especially if Harry was with him. -- “Come along, Eggsy,” Harry said, not bothering to see if Eggsy was obeying before exiting the shop front and climbing into a Kingsman taxi. “You’ve had rather a long day.” Eggsy slipped in after the man, ending up sandwiched between him and Merlin while he texted his mum and let her know he was back home and would drop by to see her shortly. He’d been surprised when, upon reaching Harry’s house, both of the men entered the house and helped Eggsy to the den, sitting on either side of him. He was nervous, actually; he’d avoided being alone with Harry and Merlin at the same time since Kentucky, when he’d realised how gone he was on Harry, and how gone they were on each other. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere, Merlin?” he asked finally, the tension coiling in his gut and breaking out without his permission. The doctors had said he’d likely say whatever came to mind for a while; a side effect of the concussion. “Harry and I spoke quite a bit this past week,” Merlin began. “About your … interest in our activities.” “You talk quite a bit in your sleep, Eggsy, did you know that?” Harry interjected. “I didn’t know you’d taken my words about a gag so seriously.” Eggsy didn’t know that, and he ducked his head. “Look, it ain’t a problem. Won’t be a problem. It’s stupid o’ me anyway. Jus’ curiosity that don’ need t’be sated.” Harry smiled. “That’s exactly what we intend to do.” “Sorry, what?” “Make sure your curiosity is—that you are—sated,” Merlin said. “We spent a lot of time discussing this with each other, and neither of us can deny that you’re lovely, Eggsy. In the past, we’ve taken other lovers to our bed, and if you’re willing, we’d be honoured if you’d join us. No pressure either way; if you want to stop, we stop, and everything goes back to normal.” Eggsy boggled. “Feel like I’m missin’ somethin’ huge ‘ere,” he said. “Are you two actually sayin’ you wanna shag me?” “Harry’s been sweet on you since he bailed you out of jail,” Merlin said, and Harry glared at him for a moment. “Came home and fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk the next day.” “That’s …” Eggsy paused, licking his lips as he imagined it. “I’d like to’ve seen that.” “That can be arranged,” Harry said. “Not that particular incident, obviously, but one tonight. If you’re interested.” He paused a moment, clearing his throat. “Of course, we wouldn’t expect any sort of commitment from you that you aren’t willing to give.” “No! No, I’m … fuck, yeah, I’m interested,” Eggsy said, and Harry’s mouth was on his almost before he’d finished speaking, and damn, but the man could kiss. Eggsy melted into it, cock hard just thinking about what was to come. Him, hopefully. On Harry’s prick. There were four hands on his body, caressing gently, almost lovingly, and Eggsy loved it. All of his other encounters were quick and dirty, one and done just to get off. This was something else entirely, a level of care Eggsy hadn’t experienced or expected. Hadn’t thought he deserved. “You deserve everything,” Harry whispered, and Eggsy flushed. He’d said that out loud? “But not tonight. Not so soon after your injury.” “Why?” God, that would be mortifying when he realised how whiny he sounded. “Do you want to explain to the doctor that you exacerbated your concussion with sex?” Merlin asked, licking behind Eggsy’s ear, causing the boy to shiver a bit. “We’d rather keep you here and take care of you.” Eggsy groaned. He wanted to be taken care of by these two men. “So I at least get to watch you two tonight?” he asked, resting one hand on Merlin’s leg, sliding up slowly. “If that’s what you wish,” Merlin confirmed. “Otherwise, we’ll just talk.” “We want you to be comfortable, Eggsy,” Harry put in, and Eggsy licked his lips. “I am,” Eggsy said. “I mean, no, this is fuckin’ mental an’ I’m not sure I ain’t hallucinatin’ all this, but I’m comfortable. You two wouldn’t do somethin’ like this if it weren’t okay.” Unless this was a really shitty trick, of course, in which case Eggsy was going to die of blue balls. Merlin smiled slightly. “Nothing will change on the job,” he said after a moment. “Communication stays open off-hours. Harry and I haven’t lasted this long by hiding our feelings.” “So if I was to tell you I’ve dreamed o’ goin’ down on your boyfriend since he beat up Dean’s muppets, that’d be okay?” Eggsy asked, and Merlin laughed. “That wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Merlin admitted. “He always had a soft spot for your father, too—not like this, of course.” Eggsy’s lips twitched. He’d always known Harry liked a bit of rough. Posh blokes always did. “Of course. Harry’s just a paragon of gentlemanly virtue, ain’t he?” Merlin, at least, looked amused. -- Eggsy didn’t get to participate that night, or for another week. It was torture, watching two beautiful men fuck without being allowed to join in. But it wasn’t all sex—they did talk, a lot. “You two were right about communication,” Eggsy said one night after Harry told Merlin about finding some mark attractive and Merlin dryly responded that he ought to put in for another Honeypot, then, if he was so hard up for companionship. Harry had laughed, and Eggsy felt like he’d seen something special. Dean used to talk to his mum that way, before Eggsy had gotten them out of the council estate, but it wasn’t meant to reassure her that he’d always come home: it was a tool used to keep her in line, to tell her she was worthless, that he could leave her and Daisy without a second look. Harry said it like it was just a fact that he’d find other people lovely, but it didn’t matter in the end because he was Merlin’s (and, Eggsy thought privately, a little bit his, too) and a pretty face wouldn’t break that bond. Eggsy wondered if he’d ever find someone like that, who would know everything about him and his life, and still want him the way Harry and Merlin wanted each other. Like he still wanted from both of them, because Eggsy was nothing if not loyal tending toward stupidly masochistic. But then Merlin kissed him softly, and Eggsy thought maybe he’d at least let himself pretend he belonged there. -- It was the end of a long day, and after his final cleared medical exam, that Eggsy got to experience exactly what he’d been watching play out in front of him all week. Harry took him home while Merlin finished up at headquarters with the recruits and immediately stripped Eggsy of his suit. Eggsy wanted this, wanted it even when he thought he’d never have it, and he attacked, kissing Harry with teeth and tongues and they’d both be bruised for it, but it would be worth it. Harry laughed against his mouth, chiding him for his aggression as he pulled back to divest himself of his own suit. “Have patience, Eggsy,” he said, taking hours to unknot his tie, days to unbutton his shirt, bloody fucking weeks to get his belt off. “You’re a fuckin’ tease,” Eggsy muttered, touching himself lightly. “If you tell me we’re waitin’ on Merlin I’ll die.” “No, no, Merlin will be along shortly. Right now … it’s just us.” Harry folded his clothes carefully before turning to face Eggsy, fully naked and hard, and Eggsy’s mouth watered. “Fuck me,” he breathed. “That’s the plan,” Harry said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “But we’re not going to rush through it, as I’m sure you’ve done with your past engagements.” Eggsy snorted. “Nice way o’ referrin’ to a quick shag,” he teased, pushing Harry onto his back, climbing over him and kissing him hungrily, the way he’d been dreaming of doing for months. And it was, so far, living up to his wank material. Harry kissed like he fought, with passion and drive and single-minded focus. Eggsy gave as good as he got, though—he touched every bit of warm bare skin he could reach, his body taut with need. He’d gone weeks without a good orgasm, and now that he was here— “Fuck!” Harry chuckled. “That’s why we don’t rush, Eggsy,” he chided softly, reaching for a tissue to clean up Eggsy’s mess. He gently wiped the boy clean. “Ready to try again?” Eggsy nodded, cheeks bright red. He’d not come that fast since his first time back in Year 10, and it was just as mortifying now as when he ruined Keeley Walters’ skirt. She’d never spoken to him again, and had told the rest of their class what had happened. He’d been the laughingstock of Tameside until he’d finally left. Harry took over then, still passionate, still with the focus of a trained killer, but slower, teasing and torturous. His lips and tongue trailed down over Eggsy’s body, and the younger man could do nothing but whimper and wriggle and hope for Harry to take pity on him. But the man wasn’t paying attention to that; he was busy biting little marks into Eggsy’s chest and stomach, and while Eggsy knew he’d love to see them later as proof that this wasn’t some crazy concussion-induced delirium, right now it wasn’t enough. “If you’re waitin’ on Merlin before we go further, you’ll have to explain why ‘m dead o’ blue balls,” Eggsy warned. “Harry, please, come on!” “Patience,” Harry replied. “I promise, you will be more than satisfied by the time I’m done with you.” And Eggsy knew he would be, but it was still impossible to be still when he wanted to either be gagging on Harry’s prick or feeling it when he sat for days. “Bet you’d make anyone talk by withholding sex from a mark,” Eggsy breathed when Harry’s hand ghosted over his cock—hard again, but still tender from before. “I have, in the past,” Harry admitted, “though none that I wanted to please as much as I do you. You’re going to break, Eggsy, and then Merlin and I will put you back together again, just to start over.” His breath washed over Eggsy’s skin, and the young man shivered with want. “By the time we’re finished with you, nobody will ever compare.” “Knew that already,” Eggsy breathed, and he was rewarded with hearing the click of a bottle of lube being opened. He spread his legs wide, using his hands to hold himself up and open for Harry. He wanted it, damn it. He fuckin’ wanted to fuck. “Get on with it, wouldja?” “I thought we’d already learned about patience tonight,” Harry teased, slipping just the tip of one finger into Eggsy’s body. God, but Harry Hart was a tease. He was enjoyin’ making Eggsy whine and whimper. That finger finally truly breached him, and then a second, and finally a third joined in while Eggsy writhed around like a goddamn whore. “Just do it, ‘arry,” Eggsy said, finally at his breaking point when those fingers brushed against his prostate for the third time. “I ain’t gonna last anyway.” And then those fingers were gone, and Harry was slipping a rubber over his prick. Eggsy smiled, so ready for this. He’d been ready for months, really, so when the man finally slid in, it just felt right. A bit of a burn, but nothing Eggsy couldn’t handle. “Ah, fuckin’—yes,” he sighed as Harry slowly began to thrust. It was perfect. Eggsy relaxed, letting Harry use him, thick cock so deep Eggsy would definitely be feeling it for a while, and it would definitely be something he pulled out on particularly difficult Honeypots to get things moving. Harry leaned close, kissing Eggsy far too gently for how hard he was thrusting into the very willing body below him. “Ah, well, this is a lovely sight to come home to.” Eggsy and Harry glanced at the door, where Merlin was standing, already unbuttoning his cuffs. “‘bout time,” Eggsy said, flushing at how eager he was to be taken by two men when he’d come into this relationship wanting only the man currently balls-deep in his arse. “Cheeky bastard,” Merlin teased, and Eggsy watched him undress. Harry slowed a bit, fucking him with long, drawn-out thrusts that kept Eggsy on edge but didn’t let him come. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself plenty.” “Would be better with both o’ you,” Eggsy admitted, licking his lips, and even Harry groaned at that. “Fuck his mouth, Merlin,” Harry urged, and Eggsy moaned, opening his mouth even though Merlin wasn’t actually naked yet. “Our boy’s a bit of a tart, isn’t he?” “Our tart,” Merlin agreed, joining the men on the bed once he’d kicked off his pants. Eggsy whimpered a bit, reaching for Merlin’s prick. He really liked being called their boy, and he thought he might like it better when they proved it. Merlin obliged, kneeling by Eggsy’s face and tangling his fingers in his hair as his cock disappeared between those gorgeous lips. “If you could see yourself …” Eggsy wanted to. He wanted to see his mouth stretched around Merlin, his arse around Harry. Maybe next time he’d ask them to wear their glasses—surely Merlin could encrypt the feed so it would be just for the three of them. Above him, Merlin and Harry were kissing, thrusting into Eggsy in sync, and Eggsy knew that even with blowing his load earlier, he wasn’t going to last. And he couldn’t even warn the men. Harry reached down, cupping Eggsy’s balls and cock roughly, and that was all it took for Eggsy to come. His arse tightened around Harry’s cock, and the man followed him over the edge. He kept his softening cock inside Eggsy as Merlin picked up the pace, going deeper, deep enough that Eggsy had to gasp for breaths when Merlin pulled back. It was glorious, Eggsy thought, and he swallowed around the head of Merlin’s prick every time he pushed in. It didn’t take long for Merlin to spill down Eggsy’s throat, holding him there until his climax subsided. Eggsy back off, gasping and coughing, disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to taste the man’s semen. But then he was being manhandled into laying down between the men, and hands were stroking over his body gently. “Did we hurt you, dear boy?” Harry asked, and Eggsy snorted. “‘m fuckin’ perfect,” Eggsy rasped, smiling stupidly. “Gotta do it again later. T’other way ‘round,” he added, barely awake anymore. “Sleep, Eggsy,” Merlin soothed, whispering soft words until Eggsy obeyed. -- The next morning was … well, not quite awkward, but not exactly comfortable. Eggsy was sore and sated when Harry dragged his arse out of bed to eat breakfast in the fuckin’ kitchen. “You bugger me senseless and expect me to walk?” he whined, and Harry laughed. “It will get easier,” Harry promised, and Eggsy groaned, partly from working out overused muscles, partly from the promise of more. “Ain’t a gentleman s’posed to make people comfortable?” Eggsy grumbled as he took his seat. Merlin set a plate before him, loaded with eggs and sausage and bacon, then dropped a kiss to Eggsy’s hair. “A gentleman follows the general rule of thumb to do for others what he would have done for himself,” Harry said, and Eggsy smirked. “So you want us to spit-roast you, then? Gimme a day or two, but I’d be up for it,” Eggsy teased, giving his sausage a bit of a blowjob before eating it. Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment, instead sipping his tea and unfolding the newspaper. At least Merlin looked amused.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Theon murmured into Robb’s neck as Robb half dragged, half carried him out of the reception hall. “Loras fucking did it.” “He’s a married man,” Robb grinned, only slightly tipsy himself but not nearly as far gone as Theon who wound up doing shots with the groom’s brother. “Robert knows how to fucking party,” Theon remembered fondly as Robb shoved him into the passenger’s seat. “We should hang out with him more.” “He’s my father’s childhood friend,” Robb frowned. “Whatever,” Theon turned in his seat grumpy. “’Still be cool.” Rather than answer, Robb closed the door to the car gently before maneuvering to the driver’s side. He had just started the car when Theon reached over and yanked on Robb’s tie. “Where’d you get this?” Robb blinked and looked down at the blue tie. “I don’t know? It was in my closet.” Theon smirked, yanked it once more and settled into his seat, much like a cat curling into a pillow. “It’s ugly as fuck.” Robb frowned and glanced down at the tie in question. “It’s not that bad.” “You should have let me pick it for you. It’s too dark. Lighter blue would have been better. Would’ve matched your eyes.” “Right, because that really matters.” Robb put the car in drive and pulled out of his parking spot. “I’m single so it doesn’t really matter.” “That’s why you got to make an effort, Stark.” Theon’s hand flopped over the center console to smack Robb lightly in the chest where it stayed lazily. “’Aren’t going to get a girlfriend that way.” “Or boyfriend,” Robb added with a tiny smile. “Yeah, yeah, bi and proud. We get it.” Theon took his hand back. “Won’t even really matter if you aren’t even trying. No one is going to want you.” “I think you’re projecting,” Robb hummed, not hurt at all by Theon’s comments. In this state, it was kindness butchered by years of suppressing emotions. “Usually I lose you at these things but all you did was drink with Robert Baratheon and hang out with me. Maybe it is you who isn’t really trying.” Theon sneered, “Did you switch your major again? I swear if you are a psych major now we are no longer best friends. I don’t need you psycho-analyzing me.” “Nope, still law,” Robb rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you even need a degree to psycho-analyze you. Kind of an open book. Beginner’s level course.” “Only to you. You’re the only one who practically knows everything.” “Aw, so sweet.” “Mmm,” Theon murmured. “And I’ll be the only one if you keep dressing like a slob.” “You sound like my mother,” Robb threw out, knowing Theon and his mother rarely saw eye to eye. “I wouldn’t sound all superior with that one,” Theon snorted a choked laugh. “You are the definition of mama’s boy. How long was it before Cat stopped picking your clothes out for you? Oh that’s right, last year. Big ‘ol mama’s boy. Not even Rickon can snatch that title.” “Hey! It was not last year!” “Pfff, no lying to me. I know everything, Stark. Everything. Just like I know you aren’t going to get a girlfriend…or boyfriend anytime soon. Not like that.” “It’s just a tie?” Robb, stopped at the red light, looked down at this tie. “First it’s the tie. Then it’s going to be the hair- I can already see a homeless beard in your future. Then you’ll move back home with no job, just a bunch of unfinished degrees. You can forget about marriage then.” “Ahh, so that’s what it is about.” “I said to stop analyzing me.” Robb pulled into their hotel’s parking lot. “Did Renly and Loras’ wedding make you think about your own wedding?” “I am not getting married,” Theon growled as he unbuckled his seatbelt and attempted to get out before the car was completely parked. Once he managed the door, Theon tumbled out. Robb raced around the side and helped him up, slinging Theon’s arm over his shoulder. “I think it is sweet.” “What is?” Theon muttered. “You don’t want me to get married.” “Did I say those fucking words?” Theon tried to back away but only stumbled and further slumped into Robb. “Didn’t have to. Like you said, I know everything about you.” Robb dug for the hotel key as Theon fell forward against the door. “Well, you’re wrong.” “No I’m not.” Robb found the key and unlocked the door, leading Theon in and slamming it shut behind them. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you someone worth your time.” “Good luck.” Theon let go of Robb and flopped onto the single bed. Hey, it was cheaper that way. “I can manage.” “And if you don’t,” Theon cocked an eyebrow, or at least attempted to. He was a bit distracted getting the buttons off his shirt. “What’s your contingency plan? You marry me?” “Is that a proposal?” Robb wrinkled his nose, trying to stop from laughing. “Real shit one if that’s the case.” Theon chuckled sleepily, his eyes closing slowly as his left his shirt half unbutton. “Only one you’ll get.” “Ha ha. Funny.” Robb stripped his shirt and pants and landed on the bed beside Theon. “Sure, I’ll marry you if I can’t find someone else.” “Shake on it,” Theon dared, but his eyes were closed and his words were slurred with drink and sleep. No handshake was made but Robb turned onto his side and looked at his best mate. Marriage to Theon wouldn’t be bad. Jon already said they practically were. Robb certainly had the right feelings for that, but the rest was really up to Theon and if his emotions were in the right place. “You’d make a good husband,” Theon murmured as he turned, nuzzling his pillow. “We should date first though, hmm?” “How about Friday?” Robb said, half serious but going along with the joke. “Can’t,” Theon muttered. “Asha is taking me out. How about Sunday for breakfast? No, Sunday for brunch.” Robb paused for a moment, trying to gage if Theon was legit or not, but he seemed to be more asleep than awake. “Sunday for brunch,” Robb repeated with a sigh, trying not to let the disappoint of this only being a joke seep into his tone. “It’s a date.” Robb was completely surprised but unbelievably elated when Sunday came around and Theon stood, leaning against his doorway.

xTBBTx Bernadette and Amy were reclined next to each other on a sand dune looking at the sky. It was a bit of a drive getting to the observation site but they both agreed it was worth it. “You know, times like this I understand why Howie keeps working for the space program,” said Bernadette. “Indeed. The only time my work allows me to see stars are when I’m testing shape recognition in primates or have concussed myself,” said Amy. “Sometimes I see star-shaped bacteria at the lab but it isn’t quite the same,” agreed Bernadette. “I know it may not be socially appropriate given Penny’s absence but as I am your Maid of Honor I feel it necessary to inquire as to the status of Howard’s Best Man selection.” Bernadette sighed, her finger drawing little swirls in the sand. “He’s not sure. Sometimes I think it’s a wonder he was sure enough to propose.” Amy raised an eyebrow. “The only proposals I get from Sheldon have proper theses and a table of contents.” “Wow,” said Bernadette, turning to face Amy. “You mean you’re ready to marry him?” “Ready. Resigned. Definitely not repulsed by the idea. I am under no illusion that I am in any way considered to be a ‘catch’. Sheldon is egotistical, socially inept, sexually absent and disdaining of others but he does have a nice singing voice.” “Aw Amy, you make it sound like you’re settling. There’s someone out there for every one. I mean look at Howard and me: who knew I would meet an engineer while working as a waitress?” Amy raised herself up on an elbow. “Lightning has indeed struck twice at the Cheesecake Factory as Penny also ‘picked up’ Leonard. Perhaps I should seek a part time job.” After a moment she sat up and dragged her backpack to her side. Bernadette heard the sounds of bottles clinking before she felt a cool touch of glass against her hand. “What’s this?” she asked as she looked at the bottle. “Mississippi Mud cooler,” Amy smiled. “I figured what the heck let’s find a proper drink to toast the Milky Way.” She held up her bottle to the moon. “To friends and lovers.” Bernadette touched Amy’s bottle with her own. “And to friends who are lovers and lovers who are friends.” Amy paused in thought before taking a long drink. On the other side of the sand dune Raj and Howard were putting the finishing touches on the assembled telescope. “You know Howard I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself,” snapped Raj as he attached the eye cup. “It’s not like astrophysicists and telescopes are strangers.” “Take it easy. All I’m saying is that you might as well take advantage of an engineer in the midst,” soothed Howard. “Don’t mind Raj. He’s just sore the department wouldn’t let him take any of the higher end sensor equipment after the last time,” Leonard said while rummaging for a cola. Raj was annoyed. “Dude, do you know how embarrassing it was having nothing to show for the meteor storm except a recording of you and Howard recreating the Battle of the Death Star with soda bottles and an empty brisket pan?” Leonard shrugged. “Maybe it’s karma for us sabotaging Sheldon’s experiment in the Arctic.” “Are you kidding me? With the amount of karma I acquire through knowing Sheldon I could kill a school full of Jedi children and get away with it,” scoffed Raj as he adjusted the lenses. “So are we ready?” asked Bernadette as she and Amy came into the camp. “Wop hop a top sop u pop?” said Amy as she kicked some sand. “What?” said Leonard with a grin. “Sorry. I was echoing Bernadette’s sentiment,” explained Amy. Howard spread out a blanket over the sand. “For you, ladies. Tonight’s main attraction will commence in one hour and twenty-four minutes.” He looked to Raj for conformation, getting it with a nod and a little smirk. “So what will we do until then?” said Bernadette as Howard sat down next to her. “I know what we could do…” he purred. Bernadette giggled as she swatted his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s not like we can just look at the sky and pose questions to an astrophysicist or anything like that,” said Leonard as he sat down on the cooler. Raj scowled at him. “I have a solution,” said Amy as she held up a bottle of Mississippi Mud. “Right out of Beetlejuice,” laughed Howard. Raj gratefully took the bottle from Amy and took a gulp after opening the cap. He turned to his friends grinning like a fool. “Now, where were we?” he started. “Ah yes, the 2005 YU55 meteor. Well, since its discovery….” XxX Sheldon checked his watch as he stood in front of his whiteboard and frowned. Nine- fourteen. Given the time of night, distance and speed it would be useless to attempt going to the meteor viewing. Especially if Penny’s made a diversion on her way home, he thought as he corrected his equation. He didn’t know why he had this sudden urge to see the meteor. If he had been so inclined earlier he could have gotten a ride with Leonard or Howard instead of waiting impatiently for Penny. ‘Solve for P=’ he wrote in the lower left hand corner of the board. Once he was finished the new formula Sheldon stared at the equation: usual time she leaves work, distance, average speed for Penny which of course meant a minimum of ten over the speed limit equals P where P equals ‘Home’. “That was rather disjointed. I should have solved for ‘H’,” Sheldon muttered as he replaced the ‘P’ with an ‘H’. “Come now Dr. Cooper, don’t let basic mathematics slip from your grasp.” His eyes drifted to a particularly complex formula and read it as easily as a comic book. “Cognitive functions are normal.” He again looked at the simple set of numbers in the corner and narrowed his eyes: the input was correct as was the answer yet he felt as if something was wrong. After erasing the ‘H’ with his thumb he scrawled in ‘P’. Now satisfied, Sheldon continued with another problem until he heard the sounds of footsteps and jangling keys. He crossed the hall and stood in front of Penny’s door, waiting exactly one minute before knocking since it gave her time to set things down and slip off her shoes yet not so much that she would become settled in a new activity. Knock Knock Knock “Penny.” Knock Knock Knock “Penny.” Knock Knock Knock “Penny.” “Yes Sheldon?” Penny asked as she opened the door. “Penny, as you are aware the 2005 YU55 meteor is scheduled to pass between the Earth and the Moon tonight.” “Yup.” Sheldon’s mouth gave a sudden twitch as he attempted to smile. “You’re also aware that Leonard, Howard, Raj, Bernadette and Amy are presently situated at a pre-designated GPS coordinate awaiting the arrival of the meteor.” “YuP,” she said, emphasizing the ‘P’. “I believe our attendance is non-optional as this is a designated group social outing and we’re part of the group collective,” he explained. Penny blinked. “You’re saying now you want to go? Why didn’t you go earlier with Leonard?” Sheldon cocked his head to the left. “I didn’t realize until later that I desired to participate. However, even if I did accompany Leonard we’d still be at a quandary because you wouldn’t be there.” “I said I had to work,” she responded as she leaned against her doorframe. “Yes, but how could we calculate our outing as coming to a successful conclusion when we’re missing the Penny variable?” “‘Penny variable’?” She couldn’t help but smile. “So now I’m a math equation? Sheldon you’ve got to get some air time between you and your marker board.” “Well there have been many instances where I considered you a ‘problem’.” He paused. “Bazinga.” “Yeah, yeah,” said Penny as she rolled her eyes. “Look sweetie, I don’t know if I’m up to having a drive tonight. Besides, isn’t it too late? I thought Leonard said the meteor thing was sometime after ten-thirty?” “That is why Leonard isn’t an astrophysicist,” said Sheldon as he shook his head. “Sheldon—” “Penny, it isn’t in my nature to press my point”—here she dropped her jaw—“but in this instance I feel it necessary to note that 2005 YU55 is a once in a lifetime occurrence and so is the opportunity to see the aforementioned meteor in the presence of dear friends. It would make for a truly unforgettable evening.” Sheldon bit his lip as Penny thought it over. “Do I have time for a shower?” she said at last. “Of course you do,” said a relieved Sheldon. “I’ll be back in eight minutes.” He returned to his apartment. “Crap on a cracker,” Penny muttered as she closed her door and ran into her bedroom. XxX “So what made you change your mind about going?” asked Penny as she drove. “Something Howard said about how juvenile Gallus gallus domesticus appreciate cosmological spectacles,” said Sheldon as his fingers rubbed an edge of his seatbelt. “Meaning?” “‘Chicks dig stargazing’,” he mumbled and blushed as Penny began laughing. “What was that? Juvenile Gallus…” “Gallus domesticus,” Sheldon smiled. Penny shook her head. “You’re really something else, pumpkin. So—wait. ‘Chicks’. You mean we’re driving out there because you think I want to see this?” Sheldon looked out his side window into the darkness. “I also thought we could use the driving time as a means of ‘catching up’.” “O-kay,” said Penny hesitantly as she signaled to pass a pickup truck. “So how’s work coming?” “Slowly. I feel myself growing anxious as the day in question approaches.” “Your birthday,” Penny confirmed. Sheldon nodded but said nothing. “Well as I said, if anyone can do it it’s you, Moonpie.” Sheldon turned back towards Penny. “No, you said I will do it—and don’t call me Moonpie.” “Let’s put it this way: do you think there’s a scientific answer as to how the universe formed and how it works?” “Yes.” “Then I believe you’ll figure it out,” she said as her green eyes caught his blue ones in the rear view mirror. “Believe Luke.” “Why Penny, you’re quoting Star Wars,” Sheldon said in a pleased tone. “If I couldn’t after all these years of knowing you and Leonard I’d have to have cabbage for brains.” Sheldon was puzzled. “Why cabbage?” Penny braced herself for the groan. “Because I’d ‘produce’ no thoughts.” After a moment Sheldon smiled and gave a gaspy laugh. The rest of the ride went relatively smoothly as Penny only had to bite her tongue once against a particularly backhanded comment. She knew he didn’t mean it to sound as harsh as it did but that didn’t mean she was a pushover. Of course, Sheldon didn’t even realize he was push-ing to begin with. “Pull over Penny,” said Sheldon after looking at his watch. “But we’re not there yet,” she said as she signaled to leave the side road for the desert. “We won’t make it. The meteor will pass in five minutes and we’re still several miles away from the observation site.” Penny drove around a small dune and put the car in park. Grabbing their jackets, both Penny and Sheldon exited the vehicle and climbed onto the hood. “So where should I look?” she asked “At the moon. Although it won’t make much difference. We need a telescope.” “Ah.” She looked at a particularly bright star. “What’s that?” she pointed. “The planet Venus.” “Really?” said Penny in shock. “I thought all we could see was Mars and the moon?” “With the naked eye it’s hard to discern the other planets from the stars but it is possible to see Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn and Uranus,” answered Sheldon. “Pluto and Neptune are too dim.” “Wow.” She looked at the stars. “So you know all about this.” “Not ‘all’,” Sheldon began. She elbowed him. “You know what I mean.” She looked up. “When I see the sky I feel so insignificant.” “We are insignificant,” said Sheldon. He noticed in his peripheral vision that Penny looked sad. “Of course that’s in perspective of the general universe. In a more personal cosmology some people are an integral component of gravity necessary to support life.” Penny smiled. “Yeah, you rock my world too, Sheldon.” He blushed nervously as she leaned back on the windshield. “So show me the Big Dipper.” He leaned over and pointed at the sky. “Do you see that particularly bright star? That’s Polaris or the North Star. See the star directly below it? Now follow to the left and you have the ladle. And up—” “I see it!” Penny exclaimed. “While we’re in the vicinity there’s the House of Cephus and later in the evening we should see Cassiopeia.” Penny smiled warmly as she gazed at Sheldon. “Thanks for bringing me here.” “You drove,” he conceded. “No, I mean ‘here’.” She held up her arm to span the sky. Sheldon swallowed hard before glancing at Penny, a shy smile on his face. “Of course,” he stammered, “Cephus was the Ethiopian King whose daughter Andromeda was offered up to the Krakken until she was rescued by the hero Perseus.” “Perseus? You mean Clash of the Titans?” “Indeed.” “Wow. Is Perseus out there too?” asked Penny as she scoured the heavens. “He’ll be to the east of Cassiopeia and north of Taurus,” said Sheldon as he directed her vision. After taking a moment to look, Penny let a sly smile creep onto her face. “Wait, you’re a Taurus aren’t you?” Sheldon pursed his lips in distaste. “Yes.” “That makes you practical, determined and a generous friend,” she quoted from memory. Sheldon rolled his eyes. “No, genetics, environmental exposure and experience make me what I am, Penny.” “Oh, did I say stubborn?” she asked sweetly. He wrinkled his nose. “So what’s Amy?” “Capricorn.” “Ooo, two earth signs. That’s terrific. Capricorns are practical, disciplined and funny.” “While I attribute none of this to astrological hokum I do concur that Amy Farrah Fowler does possess these characteristics,” said Sheldon grudgingly. “See? It’s destiny you met.” Sheldon was silent as he looked at the sky. “I believe you said you’re a Sagittarius. What traits does that seemingly bestow on your person?” “I’m a free-spirit bay-bee. Honest and optimistic,” Penny grinned as she raised her arms over her head. “Nothing negative?” he asked, eyebrow arching. “Well, maybe a little irresponsible.” Sheldon laughed. “Fascinating. Maybe I was too hasty in trivializing astrology.” Penny stuck out her tongue. xTBBTx Despite arriving home at three forty-seven am Sheldon felt wide awake as he crossed the campus towards his office. Granted he hadn’t had a proper sleep cycle and his bowel movement was delayed twenty-three minutes but all in all he managed to keep to his scheduled departure time with Leonard. Sheldon flashed a little smile as he thought about the previous evening. Once he brought down his conversation to Penny’s level she was a bundle of questions. She proved to be a willing student as they spent the night charting constellations and talking about star systems and even a little string theory. True, this wasn’t the most stimulating conversation on M-theory but to Sheldon it was one of the most important talks of his life. He was particularly mystified by Penny’s analogy on dark matter: “So basically this Fritz thought up dark matter as a way of explaining why his numbers didn’t mesh with what he thought they’d be,” said Penny. Sheldon looked at her sharply. “You make it sound like Professor Zwicky was attempting to conceal an error. In actuality he was the first to employ the virial theorem—‘a whole whack of math’ as you put it—to locate evidence of ‘missing mass’ in the orbital velocities of galaxies in clusters. Subsequent observations support the presence of dark matter such as the rotational speeds of galaxies, gravitational lensing—” “What’s that?” Sheldon took a moment to think. “Think of my fist as a galaxy cluster and directly behind it we have another galaxy set at an indeterminate distance. Now the spacetime around my fist is curved due to gravitational principles. For us observing on Earth, the background galaxy appears to be larger and in another location than it really is because of the closer galaxy’s gravity working on the spacetime around itself.” “No kidding. Sounds like unrequited love to me.” Sheldon turned his head, a puzzled look on his face. “Think of my fist as a hot guy and behind him is a nice guy. Now the hot guy’s got an uber aura of muscles and dimples and a killer smile. From a girl’s perspective she might see the nice guy but he’s distorted because of the hot guy’s hotness. So while she sees the nice guy as only a friend he’s really over here in the ‘wants to be more than friends’ area.” Sheldon looked at the sky, an unexplained rush of adrenaline causing him to flush. Perhaps he was catching something? He cleared his throat. “The vast majority of dark matter is nonbaryonic—not formed from atoms—and does not interact with ordinary matter in the usual manner because they do not carry any electric charge. Moreover nonbaryonic dark matter can only be detected by its gravitational attraction or by indirect detection such as the presence of neutrinos. It—” Penny laughed. “Now this sounds like a shy guy who can’t tell a girl how he feels. The only way anyone knows he likes her is by seeing what he does for her like making sure she gets home after drinking at a party; listening to her as she complains about life.” She dug her elbow into Sheldon’s side. “Look at you: playing with numbers and formulas to solve the universe when at the heart of it all physics is the language of love.” “Unrequited if we follow your examples,” Sheldon amended. “Well that’s why we’ve got you smart guys working on it,” she grinned. As he opened the door to his wing of the building Sheldon saw a series of helium balloons equally spaced along the hallway with numbers increasing in sequential value. He opened his messenger bag and pulled out a pair of small scissors. He popped the first balloon then each succeeding on as he made his way towards his office. As predicted, balloon thirty was tied to his doorknob. He cut the knot and unlocked his door. He turned on the lights and walked nonchalantly to his desk, his calm demeanor betrayed by the shaking of his hand as he dropped the balloon strings in his garbage can. XxX “But I need those shifts,” Penny complained. As it stood she’d just make rent this month with little else to spare. 'God, the car insurance is going to kill me next month'. The assistant manager smiled sympathetically but couldn’t alter the schedule. Feeling herself tearing up Penny flashed a quick smile and went to get the order. She bypassed Bernadette at the counter and went further into the kitchen. Putting on a pair of latex gloves she put some shredded cheese and strips of bacon next to—but not touching—the hamburger sitting on the plate. She placed the little dish of barbecue sauce on the side and carried the plate to her serving tray before removing her gloves. “Right on schedule,” said Mike as he deftly turned the chicken on the grill. “I could almost set my watch to that guy.” “He’s punctual,” Penny agreed as she put three more plates on her tray. “And particular.” 'And peculiar', she thought with a little smile as she recalled last night. It had to be one of the most educational dates she’d been on. Not that it was a date date only that it felt so intimate she didn’t have another way to classify what had happened. Of course it was hard to classify anything when Sheldon Cooper was involved. Nevertheless she had to admit to herself that she had fun. “Ok, that’s pork chop with baked potato for Howard,” she said as she set down a plate in front of each person. “Fish and chips for Raj, lactose-free fajita for Leonard and of course our ever-loving cheeseburger for Sheldon.” “Barbecue bacon cheeseburger,” Sheldon corrected as he lifted the bun to inspect the patty. “Ok then,” said Penny with a curt smile as she walked off to serve another table. Sheldon looked up as Leonard started talking about the conversation he had with Leslie Winkle, although the lanky physicist wasn’t focused on his friend. 'Odd. Penny usually engages in meaningless social chit chat for one to two minutes after serving. Moreover she is usually more verbose'. As he listened in Sheldon rolled his eyes as he quickly understood Leonard’s conversation with Leslie was social in nature. While he considered their work to be insignificant in the scheme of things he could at least tolerate hearing about irrelevant scientific data. “So what do you think she meant by that?” asked Leonard. “Well, it depends on how she said it,” said Howard between bites. “I mean there’s ‘You bet’ as in ‘I’ll see you later’ and ‘You bet’ as in ‘counting the minutes until we’re making it like wild dogs’.” “There’s also ‘You bet’ as in ‘when next we meet you’ll be at my feet basking in the radiance of my perforated hymen as I cut my way in line to use the free electron laser’,” suggested Raj as he wiggled his eyebrows. Leonard put down his fork. “You don’t think she’d use sex to get the laser….” He thought about it, a wistful smile coming to his face. “Do you?” “Why not?” interrupted Sheldon. “The bonobos—primates with whom we share a common ancestor—use sex as a way of greeting, to acquire sustenance and to resolve disputes, with the males conducting a rather unorthodox ritual involving penis fencing. It’s hardly a stretch for an optical physicist to offer coitus in exchange for a laser to conduct research in quantum chromodynamics.” “We can only hope,” said Leonard with a grin. It had been a while since he’d had sex so he was more than open to Leslie’s advances. As Penny approached the table Sheldon noticed her expression alter as she affixed a rather stiff smile to her face. “Everything all right?” she asked. “Indeed,” said Sheldon. “Might I enquire as to your status?” The rest of the guys stopped eating to look at Penny, causing her to blush. “I’m fine. Only…could you guys use another body for Halo tomorrow?” she said hesitantly. “But of course mi’lady,” Howard said smoothly. “There’s no greater turn-on than a woman kicking ass with a grenade launcher.” Sheldon raised an eyebrow. “Penny, I thought you were working tomorrow.” “So did I,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “But how will you pay—” “Drop it Sheldon,” Penny warned although she kept her smile for the rest to see. “All right then I’ll see you guys tomorrow at eight.” She placed the bill folder on the table and left. She couldn’t deal with any questions about her finances, particularly when she didn’t have any answers. Well that wasn’t true. Sheldon would say it all boiled down to an imbalance between her net pay and expenditures—most of which he deemed unnecessary. Of course how was she supposed to explain the need for three pairs of open toed sandals in different colors to a man whose idea of formal wear was a plaid suit? After the guys had left she brought her tray to the table and began piling the dishes. She carried the dishes into the kitchen, only stopping by the cash so Julie could snag the billfold tucked in her apron pocket. As she was returning to the dining area Julie motioned her over. “Wow, you really made an impression tonight,” she said with a sly grin. Penny raised her eyebrow in puzzlement as Julie opened the billfold. Behind the monies owed for the meals were four twenty dollar bills. xTBBTx “That’s that,” laughed Penny as Sheldon put his controller down in disgust. He had to wait until his character regenerated before he could continue with the game. “You did that on purpose,” he pouted. “Darn straight,” said Penny as she concentrated on finding Leonard. Sheldon’s eyes narrowed as he quickly took in his blond nemesis. Her primary metacarpals moved in seemingly perpetual motion as she pressed buttons and controlled the joy stick. If she did not take more frequent breaks she would expose the median nerve to carpal tunnel. As for her other fingers they were symmetrical with the distal phalanges tapering nicely. The electric blue coloration of her fingernails enhanced the illusion of length. The feminine adornments on her wrists, while annoying when they clashed against each other, added visual complexity as the rest of her arms were bare. Her skin was cream colored instead of tanned, perhaps a sign of a conscious effort on her part to remain melanoma free. In response to Leonard’s taunting her neck tendons appeared, indicating an elevation in stress levels. The way she leaned forward made her upper ventral region of the torso protrude and with the low cut nature of her shirt— “I see you, pumpkin pie,” she chortled. Sheldon felt his cheeks warm until Leonard’s cursing revealed to whom she was speaking. Her bracelets tinkled against each other as she reached for her soda. Sheldon’s eyes moved quickly to her lips as she took in the straw and drank. As she licked away the remaining pop from her lips he felt an inexplicable urge to lick his own. Her eyes were a rich green, a combination of yellow and black melanin that was aesthetically pleasing. Penny’s eyes narrowed as she glanced at Sheldon. “What?” she said suspiciously. In response Sheldon raised his controller and began shooting. For a moment all that could be heard in the apartment was the clattering of pushed buttons. As one Penny and Sheldon jumped. “Oh, were you where I just tossed the grenade sweetie?” she asked innocently. Sheldon glared but Penny’s head didn’t explode. xTBBTx “HOW-ARD! GET THE PHONE! I’M IN THE WASHROOM!” “I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT, MA!” Howard cleared his throat as he picked up the phone. “Hello?” “Hey Howard, still up for pizza tonight?” asked Leonard. “WHO IS IT?” came a call from the other end of the house. “IT’S LEONARD!” Howard shouted back. “Oh you better believe it,” he said into the phone as he glared at his bedroom door. God, he needed to get out of there before he pulled a Norman Bates on his mother. “Great. Sheldon already placed the order. Pick it up on your way over.” Howard licked his lips nervously. “Actually Leonard I’m glad you called. Bernadette has been hounding me to make a decision and, well, I guess I’ve settled.” Leonard laughed. “What is it? Deciding on the type of cocktail weenies?” “I want you to be my Best Man.” Leonard froze. “Are…are you sure? I mean thanks. It’d be an honor. I… Me? Ok, we know it’s me. It’s just—” “Leonard, don’t make me regret my decision,” warned Howard. “What about Raj?” “Don’t worry, he’s cool about it. He couldn’t give the Best Man speech without being drunk and I know Bernadette would freak if he went on a tangent.” Leonard ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Ok. Umm… the pizza should be ready in—” he looked at Sheldon. “Twenty seven minutes,” Sheldon said without looking up from his computer. “Twenty seven minutes,” repeated Leonard. “See you in a bit,” Howard said. After hanging up he felt the color drain from his face. 'My God, I’m getting married'. xTBBTx Knock Knock Knock “Penny.” Knock Knock Knock “Sheldon.” There was a pause. Penny smiled to herself. Knock Knock Knock “Penny.” Knock Knock Knock “Sheldon.” Knock Knock Knock “Penny.” Knock Knock Knock “Sheldon.” “What’s up, buttercup?” Penny asked as she opened the door, her jovial mood fading as she saw the anguish in his eyes. “What’s wrong Sheldon?” “Kripke,” he spat as if it were a curse. “He…. I….” Sheldon marched past Penny and sat on the couch. He set on the coffee table what looked like a pyramid made from ping pong balls. “Calm down, Sheldon. It’s ok.” She closed the door and sat next to him, catching herself before she put a hand on his thigh. “So what happened?” Sheldon took a deep breath as he rubbed his legs with his palms. “When I went to my office on Tuesday there were thirty balloons waiting for me in the hall.” “Oh sweetie,” Penny said in sympathy. “Given the history I had assumed his pranks were limited to once a week but I discovered this morning that I was in error.” He indicated the pyramid with his hands. “What is it—besides the obvious I mean.” She held up her finger before Sheldon could speak. “‘Obvious’ as in it looks like a pyramid made out of plastic balls.” “When building a square-base pyramid the tiers stack as shown: one, four, nine, sixteen, etcetera. The sum of the first four tiers is thirty,” he said angrily although Penny knew it was not directed at her. “Not that I’m saying I find any of his previous acts of mischief in any way amusing but at least they were out of the realm of mathematics—well, besides the premise of the number thirty itself. This is…demeaning. What’s next? A thirty-sided tricontagon? Geometric configurations made from the Tutte-Coxeter graph? Zinc?” “Zinc?” said a puzzled Penny. “The atomic number of zinc is thirty.” Sheldon leaned back on the couch and rested the heels of his palms on his eyes. “I just want this to stop.” “Can’t you go to the dean or something?” growled Penny. She didn’t like seeing Sheldon so upset. Granted it didn’t take much to stress him out but this was different. This was deliberate and mean. “Penny, if there’s anything I learned from grade school, no one likes a tattler.” She dropped her jaw. “You’re doctors at a university. Why—” “Exactly,” Sheldon cut in as he sat up. “A university is an educational facility and all the rules still apply. In case you haven’t observed there are distinct physical differences between people like your ex-boyfriend Kurt and people like me. When Kurt bullies someone he uses size, musculature and displays of physical prowess.” Sheldon poked the pyramid with a finger. “Academics are by and large less than prime physical specimens and therefore must utilize cunning and pettiness in order to establish a ‘pecking order’. So you see Penny I can’t report this or it’ll never stop.” While what he said was delivered in a typical Sheldony drone the color on his cheeks and the swimmy look to his blue eyes told Penny all she needed to know. Her tin-man most definitely had a heart. “Oh Sheldon,” she said softly as she began rubbing her hand on his arm; he stiffened but she didn’t stop nor did he attempt to pull away. They sat in silence, Penny averting her face to give Sheldon his privacy as he turned away to wipe his eyes. “Listen Moonpie, why don’t you grab a pop from the fridge while I get some Kleenex, okay?” she said after a few minutes. Sheldon nodded, a strained smirk flashed across his face. Penny went into her bedroom and looked around. Now where the frak’s the box? Sheldon went to the refrigerator and opened the door to find three cans of diet cola and not much else. As he looked over his shoulder towards the bedroom he made his way to her cupboards. “Good Lord, Mother Hubbard had more to offer her dog,” he whispered to himself. He quickly tabulated when her next paycheck came based on when she last had disposable income for takeout food. He quickly closed the cupboard door and scampered back to the refrigerator and grabbed two cans of pop. “Sorry about that Sheldon. Took me a minute to find it,” said Penny sheepishly as she entered the room. “Well if you let me into your bedroom we could bring order to one of the last vestiges of chaos in the building,” he offered. “Corn-free day in Nebraska when you’re allowed back in there,” she smirked as she handed him the box of Kleenex. He pulled out the top sheet with two fingers and put it in the garbage before grabbing another. Penny couldn’t help but laugh. Yup, he’s ok. “So what do you want to do now?” she asked as Sheldon dried his hands with a paper towel after washing up. “Actually,” he began hesitantly. “I find myself in a similar state of distress as last Friday and since your solution temporarily eased my symptoms I was wondering….” He looked away as a small tic made his right eye squint. Penny grinned. “One song coming up,” she said as she jumped to the stereo. This time it was Sheldon who moved the coffee table to make room. He still found himself at a loss as Penny stood before him. She held up her hands and he did the same although they didn’t touch. A big grin came to Penny’s face as she began to move her hands and Sheldon mirrored her movements. Watching her swing her hips Sheldon thought she was made to dance. She began bobbing her head from side to side and he did the same. He felt himself blush as she laughed joyfully. “Get down, Doctor Cooper.” A wicked look came to Penny’s face as her fingers began to wiggle menacingly. She stepped forward, making to tickle Sheldon’s sides although she kept about a foot’s distance. He automatically backed up and twisted his body to avoid contact. Even though he knew Penny wasn’t going to touch him he still felt the invasion of his personal space. He stumbled over the coffee table but knew he had to keep back-peddling or he’d be in real trouble as Penny was in hot pursuit. At the sound of cracked plastic they looked down and laughed as they realized in his haste Sheldon had accidently stepped on the pyramid which had fallen to the ground. The song repeated itself as they stomped on the stray ping pong balls. xTBBTx A/N Wikipedia: Dark Matter; Gravitational Lensing; Bonobos; Number 30 Wop hop a top sop u pop: ‘What’s up’ in Amy’s secret language. Amy as Capricorn: I made this up. Thanks again for reading!

93. Minos keeps me for the rest of the evening, and several times I look up and catch him staring at Haenr as he pounds into me. The other bull sits across the fire pit on his own, his cock soft between his legs. I can feel the herd shifting subtly, the tension of the evening reshaping its structure. Riet is making her own rounds servicing the herd, and I watch as Corvus rises and orders her to bend over a fallen log, his fingers beginning to work open the tightness of her ass. Despite Minos monopolizing me for so many hours, when I settle down to sleep it is with Bacchus, who is quick to force himself inside me, his pulse resounding powerfully within my sensitive flesh. “There we go, baby,” he whispers into my hair. “Is that better little love? I know you waited so patiently for my cock.” I whimper, squirming in his grasp. “Yeah,” I pant, working along his length. “I’ve been so good, Sir, please… Please fuck me hard. Please—” My voice chokes off as he closes a hand around my throat, the pressure enough to stop my breathing but not enough to hurt. My eyes snap to his, trying to convey my desperation, my need to have him own me, to have him force me to submit. “Fuck, Lia. I love when you plead with those pretty eyes of yours. Of course I’ll fuck you hard. You’ve earned it. And then I’ll fill that tight little pussy of yours with my come. Do you want that?” Please, I mouth in reply, my vision beginning to swim. He releases his grip on my neck, dragging his hand down the length of my body. He thrusts into me once, deep and powerful, his teeth ground together. I cry out, my fingers digging into his fur. I press my face against him as he repeats the motion, slow and teasing. I know he can feel me building toward my own collapse, and he is leading me there slowly, dragging it out. I feel the tears begin to prick at my eyes as the need courses through my body, to serve, to please, to be good for them. To fulfill my purpose in this life. His hand comes to cradle the back of my head, his thumb stroking my temple. “Shhh,” he whispers softly, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Just take my cock, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He picks up his speed then, jackknifing in and out of me as my body responds of its own will, wetness soaking the insides of my thighs. I stifle a sob, but he murmurs, “Not yet. Don’t come until I tell you to.” A fine tremor wracks me as I back away from the edge, pushing down on the apocalypse building in my core. I cling to him more tightly, and he responds with a particularly deep thrust, the head of his cock sending a shockwave through me. Without warning, Bacchus rises to his feet, holding me tightly to him. With his cock still thick and hot inside me, he strides to the edge of the clearing, out of the way of the rest of the herd. Just before we break into the trees, he turns to face the way we came. With some adjusting, I am facing outward as well, the shapes of the sleeping bulls around the dying fire fully in my line of sight. Holding tightly to my waist, he hooks one of my legs up over his forearm, spreading me wide. His thrusts hit me deeper this time, his shaft rubbing against the most sensitive parts inside of me over and over. I nearly scream from the pleasure and pain of it. “What do you see Lia?” Bacchus growls into my ear, rolling one of my nipples between my fingers. I arch my back into him, struggling to form coherent thoughts. “The herd,” I gasp softly. “My herd.” “That’s right. Any of these bulls would give their lives for you. I don’t know why it happened this way. You were meant to be nothing more than a toy, one we would likely break eventually. But the old magic works in strange ways. You kept a herd of bulls together that was on the brink of shattering apart. You did that, Lia. You and those pleading eyes and that warm pussy and your desperation to make us happy. Minos needed you especially, and you were a guiding light for him. You gave him purpose. Something we all had been missing for so long.” Every one of his words and thrusts has the tears rolling freely down my face. I close my eyes and lead my head back against him, surrendering completely. “Good girl,” Bacchus whispers. “Give in. I’ve got you.” I let my body go completely limp, but Bacchus is there, strong around me and within me, holding me together. I feel every detail of him as he fucks into me again and again, and I feel the rush of his come as it pushes along his length, finally exploding into me. Still I wait for his command, even as he continues moving, pushing his come into my depths. Finally he stills, buried completely within me, the tip of his cock resting against the entrance to my womb. “Come, Lia.” I don’t even have to try to obey him. I am immediately undone, the blood leaving my fingers completely. I am dimly aware of the liquid pouring out of me around him, dripping down my leg. His breathing is the only thing holding me steady as I seize around him more times than I can count, the air torn from my lungs. The next thing I am aware of is sitting in his lap while he reclines against the trunk of a tree, his cock still thick between my legs and against my opening but no longer within me. Exhausted, I rest my head against his chest, his heartbeat resonating through my head. “You are always such a good girl for me Lia,” he murmurs, and I heave a contented sigh, my breathing still shaky. “Shhh, relax. I’ve still got you. Why don’t you thank that big cock that just fucked you so well?” I know what he wants from me, and without moving I release, letting the urine flow from me. It spills over his shaft, flowing down to soak into the moss below us. Bacchus moans, stroking my hair. “Good little slut. That is the only proper way to honor a minotaur.” “Bacchus,” I mumble, my limbs so heavy but my mind still spinning. “Yes little one?” “Why did Haenr defy Minos earlier? Doesn’t he know that it isn’t his job to be alpha?” “He knows that deep down, I think,” Bacchus sighs, “But he was almost alpha himself once. When we were all young and vying for dominance, Haenr was a strong contender for alpha. His cock grew early, and he and Minos were constantly fighting, one of them wrestling the other to the ground and trying to force himself inside the other.” My eyes widen, and I shift to look up at Bacchus. “But Minos told that other herd—” “It is a game for young bulls to play,” he assures me, scratching me behind an ear. “Something usually only resorted to when a hierarchy is struggling to emerge. But Haenr gave as good as he got from him. Theus was already aligned with Minos, and Haenr had Taurn lined up to be his second. Anyway, one afternoon Minos confronted Haenr before breakfast, when all of us were gathering for a hunt. He ordered Haenr onto his knees. Haenr of course refused, but instead of throwing the first punch, he just stared back at Minos. They stayed like that for a long time. For a while it seemed that neither of them was going to win, and one of them certainly would have broken eventually. But for one of them to back down would have been to admit defeat. An alpha should not have to resort to violence to lead his herd. Well, what eventually happened is that Saegr stepped forward. He came up behind Haenr and forced him to his knees. Minos had done better than simply forcing Haenr to submit—he earned the respect and support of the rest of us. Saegr and Rigel held Haenr down while Minos fucked him. Minos was merciful, and it was over quickly. After that, none of us ever questioned his leadership. Haenr served as the omega for a few seasons for his insolence, but the same strength that almost made him alpha had him settled higher in the ranks soon enough. Things have been peaceful for the most part since we were calves, but every now and then Haenr’s blood gets heated and he steps out of line. But things will go back to normal soon. They always do. Even Eros has recovered from what happened. Worry not, kit,” Bacchus says again, stroking a hand along my tail. “All shall be well.” “Sir?” My voice rises barely above a whisper, but I know he hears me. “Yes?” “Will you use me one last time before I go to sleep?” “And still she wants more,” Bacchus laughs, the sound rumbling through my body. “Yes baby girl, I’ll fuck you again. But then you have to behave and get right to sleep. You have work to do tomorrow.” “I promise,” I agree, nodding. “I’ll be asleep before you’re even finished.” “Alright then.” He picks me back up, and we return to our place by the fire. Laying me down beside him, he slips his cock easily back inside me. I mewl as he stretches me again, but he brushes his thumb over my lips. “Sleep now Lia,” he whispers as he rocks out and back in. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I want you to fuck me awake in the morning. I want that wet little cunt to be the first thing I know tomorrow.” “Yessir,” I respond, my tongue not quite making it around the syllables. The steadiness of his rhythm drags me down into sleep, the last of the tightness in my shoulders unwinding as he fucks me gently.

Jackie listened in stunned silence as the Doctor explained why Mickey would never come home. Rose was still crying in her arms, and he was acutely aware that this was a level of domestics he would never have tolerated for anyone but her. When he finished the story, Jackie frowned. “But why would he stay there, instead of coming home where everyone knows him?” Rose looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “It was his gran, Mum. Remember his gran? She was still alive there, and I think… He always felt guilty for the way she died, tripping over that piece of carpet. This is his way of making up for that.” A strained note in the TARDIS’ song pressed insistently on the Doctor’s consciousness. He glanced over his shoulder at his ship, then back at Rose. They both needed him. Rose smiled wanly. “It’s okay, Doctor. Get her taken care of; the trip was hard on her, too.” The Doctor stood up and looked awkwardly at the Tyler women. He wanted to give Rose a hug, but making her stand up just to satisfy his own need to comfort her didn’t seem right. Sensing his uncertainty yet again, Rose held out a hand. He took it and squeezed gently, saying, “You know where to find me if you need me.” The lights in the console room were dim when he stepped inside. “All right, old girl,” he murmured as he tossed his jacket over a strut and rolled his sleeves up. “Let’s see how much damage that trip did to you.” Her answering hum sounded like a sigh of relief, and he understood why when he lowered himself beneath the grating and saw the mess of fried circuitry. Ah, I’m sorry, dear, he told her as he went to work, first removing wires that were too damaged to be repaired. It was tedious work that resulted in more than a few singed fingers, but after five hours, he’d finally cleared out the worst of the mess. He still needed to replace the pieces he’d removed, but when he hefted himself out from beneath the console, his shoulders protested the motion. “Ouch,” he muttered, rotating his shoulders and neck to release the tension caused by too many hours hunched over in a cramped space. “Maybe I’ll finish this up tomorrow.” The TARDIS hummed in encouragement, and with her permission, he left the console room heading for his bedroom. He hadn’t slept properly since… in too long, and he could feel exhaustion creeping up on him. *~*~*~*~*~*~* Rose lay flat on her back in her childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. She looked over at the clock and groaned. Two in the morning. She just… couldn’t sleep. Not in this bed anyway, she thought and finally sat up and swung her legs out from under the covers. Staying in the flat had been a concession to her mother’s need to feel like Rose hadn’t changed that much, but it clearly wasn’t working. For almost two years, her sleep had been accompanied by the soft hum of the TARDIS, and she couldn’t filter out the constant buzz of London’s city noises anymore. Rose didn’t bother to pull a dressing gown on over her sleep shorts and vest top; she was only going from one bedroom to another. The ship hummed a greeting as she walked through the console room, and she ran her fingers along the wall of the corridor. You’re my home now, she told the sentient time ship, enjoying the warm feeling that stole over her in response. When Rose pushed open the door to her room, she took half a step back. This was not her room. She took in the clutter of furniture and TARDIS parts and the hologram of a starry sky above and thought she knew whose room it was. What are you up to? she asked, but before the ship could give any sort of answer, a whimper broke the silence. Her feet carried her to the bed before she fully registered what she was doing. The fake stars above provided just enough light for her to see the Doctor’s face, and the tense lines on his forehead made her heart ache. Ever since Rose had woken up in the Doctor’s arms the morning after New Earth, she’d been looking for a way to help him the way he’d helped her. This was her chance, but what could one human girl do to calm a Time Lord’s nightmares? The Doctor twisted in his sleep and the hand on top of his duvet clenched into a fist. Rose wiped her damp palms on her shorts, then took his hand and slowly uncurled his fingers until they were relaxed again. She kept her eyes on his face; she’d read enough books to know people could act unpredictably when in the grips of a nightmare, and she didn’t fancy getting hit if he struck out. But the tension around his eyes softened, and the muscles in his forearm relaxed. How… Then she remembered what he’d told her. Touch telepaths. “Sometimes I can sort of… get an idea of what you’re feeling.” An idea came to her. She knelt beside the bed and moved her hand to his cheek, pressing it there firmly while concentrating hard on the most soothing, comforting feeling she could. The Doctor drew in a deep breath, and Rose smiled. “Guess that works then,” she whispered. She remained kneeling by his bed for ten minutes, tracing her fingers over the arch of his left eyebrow, cupping the strong line of his jaw in her hand, and stroking his forehead. When all the lines had disappeared, she stood up, wincing a bit at the ache in her knees. He was whimpering again before she reached the door, and she realised the nightmare wasn’t going to give up so easily. Yeah, well neither am I. Rose returned to the bed and shoved all her insecurities into the back corner of her mind. Then she flipped the duvet up and climbed under it next to the Doctor. Her heart stopped for a moment when she realised he was only wearing a pair of thin pyjama bottoms. Better this way though, she told herself as she shifted his left arm up so she could get as close to him as possible. More skin to skin contact—that’s the point, right? The Doctor tensed when she laid down next to him, and Rose nearly gave up on her plan. She placed a tentative palm on his chest, and he flinched as if he’d been burned. Why isn’t this working? she wondered, hearing his breath hitch in a shuddering sob. A moment later, it clicked. It was working, sort of. Only she wasn’t relaxed right now; laying down next to the Doctor had her wound as tight as a bow string. Rose closed her eyes and pulled up the memories of the few times she’d fallen asleep next to the Doctor. She breathed in the familiar honey scent of his skin and finally relaxed. The hand on his chest drifted down to his waist, and her thumb stroked his side. Sleep, she thought. I’ve got you. I love you. You’re safe. To her amazement, she felt the tension slowly ease out of his body. The arm she’d wrapped around her shoulders moved to hold her close, and he hummed softly. Rose had planned to return to her own room as soon as he was sleeping comfortably, but after the adventure in the parallel universe, she needed comfort and rest too. Being curled up next to him felt so right; she was asleep before she realised it. *~*~*~*~*~*~* The Doctor was aware of two things when he woke up. First, he felt more refreshed than he had since the morning after New Earth. Second, there was an unfamiliar weight resting on his chest. He opened his eyes and spotted a certain pink and yellow human fast asleep. Well, that would explain both things. He could tell from the elevated levels of epinephrine lingering in his system that he’d had a nightmare, and his Rose had apparently decided the best way to soothe him out of it was to cuddle up next to him in bed. Rose sighed in her sleep and nuzzled into his chest, and a third fact pressed itself insistently against the Doctor’s awareness. With this much skin to skin contact, he could sense every one of her emotions in vivid, living colour. His eyes drifted shut and he placed a kiss on top of her head. He’d tried so hard to act like he didn’t know how she felt, because he’d known that once he accepted it, all the reasons he gave himself for why they couldn’t be together would crumble. The Doctor smiled wryly; he’d been right about that. Holding Rose, feeling the depth and commitment of her feelings for him, he knew a single word from her would make him hers. He ran a hand through her hair, loving the way the silky strands felt as they slipped through his fingers. In response, Rose stretched and yawned, and he felt her moving toward consciousness. Rose sighed and opened her eyes reluctantly. In her dreams, she’d been snuggled up next to the Doctor, and… And that is the Doctor’s chest. She registered his hand stroking her hair next and realised he was awake. He was awake, and she was pressed up next to his side, projecting all of her emotions onto him. The Doctor’s hand froze. “What’s wrong, Rose?” he asked, and she hated the cautious note in his voice. Part of her wanted to sit up so she could look at him, but the stronger instinct was to hide. She turned her face into his chest and muttered, “Nothing.” He sighed, and then she felt a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “No point in lying about how you’re feeling when you’re draped over me like this,” he said gently. Rose felt her face heat up. He’d made it clear back when they met Sarah Jane that even though he loved her, he wouldn’t let himself be with her. She’d been determined after that not to make it difficult for him, but now here she was, sleeping beside him and telling him exactly how she felt. He let go of her chin abruptly and a mask dropped over his face. “I thought you understood that when I woke up with you lying next to me. But maybe you didn’t mean to be here when I woke up.” He looked up at the ceiling, now showing a projection of a sunrise. “We can just forget this, if you want.” Rose frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying. Shouldn’t she be the one offering to forget? Or apologising for making there be something that needed to be forgotten? She raised herself up on one elbow, the other hand still resting on his chest. “I just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know you can tell…” She swallowed and pushed back her embarrassment. “But you don’t have to worry, I know you’re not—that you don’t want…” The Doctor’s gaze flew to Rose’s face, and he took in her pink cheeks and the way she she refused to look at him. When she’d woken up and mortification had replaced the contentment she’d been projecting, he’d wondered if maybe she hadn’t wanted him to know, for some reason. Or maybe she didn’t think I’d want to know, and she was afraid to make me uncomfortable. It was his decision, then. If he asked Rose to pretend this hadn’t happened, she would. She didn’t know that he’d already flown the white flag. Despite his earlier thoughts, it was tempting to retreat to the friendship they already had. Timelines crystallised, and he realised this was a fork in the road. If he chose to continue on the path they were already on, there would never be another moment like this one. Rose rolled over and climbed out of bed, and the Doctor felt the moment, the timeline where he was with Rose, slipping away. His throat constricted, and she had her hand on the door before he could get words out. “Rose, wait.” She looked back at him warily, and the Doctor cursed himself and his rules for making her feel like letting him know… like this would be an imposition. He tossed the covers back and jumped out of bed, crossing the distance to the door in three easy strides. But standing next to Rose, he couldn’t find the words to explain that he’d changed his mind, that she’d changed his mind. What little hope there was in her eyes flickered out, and in desperation, he lifted his hand and placed it near her temple. If he couldn’t tell her out loud, he could show her. “May I?” he asked, following the courtesy of telepathic contact. She nodded, and his fingers touched her temple. Connecting with her was easier than he’d expected it would be with a human, and he put that thought aside to examine later. Right now, he focused on letting her know how he felt. You think I don’t, but I do, he told her silently. Rose gasped. Afraid he’d gone too far, the Doctor started to ease out of her mind. “Don’t go,” Rose begged, and he relaxed into the connection again. But I thought you didn’t want this. Humans wither and die, right? The Doctor leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. Being in Rose’s mind was like seeing the first light of dawn after an impossibly long night. Her strength and compassion would have been enough to amaze him, but he didn’t think he’d ever get over the feeling of being surrounded by her love. You do, he told her, answering her question. And it’s going to hurt so much when I lose you. That’s why I want to have as many happy memories to look back on as possible. Rose pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Are you sure? Because if we do this, Doctor, I can’t go back to how things are now.” The Doctor lifted his fingers from her temple and brushed a piece of hair back over her ear. “I’m sure,” he promised. “And you, Rose? How long are you going to stay with me?” Rose placed her palms on his chest over his hearts and slowly slid them up until her hands were wrapped loosely around his neck. The Doctor sucked in a breath at the heady combination of emotion and sensation that rushed through him at the contact. He instinctively placed his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. “Forever,” she said firmly. The Doctor was vaguely aware of their timelines twining together with that word, but he couldn’t look away from Rose long enough to examine them closely. He brought a hand up to cup her jaw, and they moved together to seal their promises with a kiss.

“SMASH.” Clint jumped. “Jeeze, Banner, why so loud?” He looked around for another orderly to help, but he was the only one in the commons with Banner. Banner scoffed at him. “Not puny Banner.” “Right,” Clint said as he surveyed the scene. He cataloged the man in the pale, thin hospital robe. Banner had scattered his lunch across the floor and was now trying to pick up the chair, which was bolted down. “What are you doing?” Banner growled at him. “Smash,” he insisted, like Clint was an idiot. “Oh-kay,” Clint said slowly. He watched the smaller man struggle with the chair. “What’s the point of that?” “Puny table,” Banner said with a grunt. “Oh, so you’re trying to smash the table. Why pick up the chair then?” Banner gave him that you idiot look again. With a huff he turned from the chair and tried to punch the table, his entire face going white as a sheet as he made contact. “Whoa! Okay, that’s enough of that.” Clint jumped into action. With no other orderlies on duty it was up to him to make sure Banner didn’t hurt himself. Although he didn’t know Banner’s chart very well, he could tell this was some sort of dissociative episode. Best to just work through it. Banner made a sad face. “Smash?” “I’ll get you something to smash,” Clint promised. He tried to herd Banner away from the table, but Banner shied away from his touch. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to get some supplies. Will you help me?” Banner eyed him warily, but did eventually nod. Clint decided not to try touching Banner again. Instead he lead the way across the deserted commons area to the art locker. Along the way he glanced outside and saw the rest of the hospital residents all playing happily, surveyed by the stoic Ross. He tried to get Ross’ attention–as the orderly in charge, this was really Ross’ problem–but Ross didn’t see him. Resigned, Clint got out a ream of paper and a handful of markers.  Banner sat cross-legged on the floor, grabbed one of the markers, and snapped it in half with a decisive crack. “Aw, marker,” Clint said as green ink spilled out onto Banner’s hands. “That’s probably coming out of my paycheck.” Banner growled at the broken plastic. “Here.” Clint grabbed a piece of paper. “I’ll show you. You want to smash the table, right?” When Banner nodded, Clint quickly sketched out the shape of a table with a brown marker. It wasn’t a great drawing, but it would do. “Now take it and smash it.” Banner looked at the paper, then back to Clint, confusion obvious. “Smash?” “Yes, smash.” Clint pointed at the picture. “Rip it apart, destroy it. Smash it as much as you want.” Clint watched as Banner carefully reached out and snatched up the paper. He held it close to his chest like he was afraid Clint would take it from him. After a moment Banner seemed to realize that wasn’t Clint’s agenda, and he gleefully ripped the paper in half. Then again, and again, into smaller and smaller pieces that he crumpled up and scattered across the floor. He pounded at them with his fists, gaunt face curled into a terrifying snarl. “That’s perfect,” Clint said as Banner panted happily. “What else do you want to smash?” Banner considered. “Ross.” Clint blinked in surprise, but he did draw a tiny stick figure of Ross with an enormous mustache and watched Banner rend it apart with relish. He kept drawing what Banner requested: pill bottles, guns, the color red (that was difficult until Clint found the red marker), and books. Banner destroyed them all until they were surrounded by ripped paper and Banner seemed calmer, more relaxed. Clint kept drawing because it was kind of fun. He drew a little picture of Banner’s face with its myriad of freckles, then drew himself in his orderly scrubs firing an arrow into a target. Banner lay on the ground beside him and reached out to poke the drawing. “Cupid?” he asked. Clint laughed. “No, that’s me. I used to be pretty good with a bow.” Banner shook his head, once again looking at Clint like he was stupid. “No,” he said. “Cupid.” Clint smiled. “Sure, I guess I can be Cupid if you want.” “Hulk,” Banner said, and smacked himself on the chest. He was grinning now, feral and toothy. “Hulk?” Clint asked, then it clicked. “Oh, Hulk. It’s nice to meet you.” Banner’s persona–Hulk, apparently–already seemed bored with him. Or maybe he was embarrassed. Either way he rolled over and curled into a little ball, intent on ignoring Clint. Clint let him do it because he wasn’t hurting anyone. He drew until Banner suddenly sat up straight and whirled around, eyes terrified. “Oh, God. Did I hurt you?” “No?” Clint shrugged. “It was just one of your personas. Perfectly normal.” Banner looked at him like he was crazy, but it was completely different from the annoyed looks Hulk had given him. “What? I–the other–what?” “Your Hulk persona? Has that one been documented?” Clint asked. When Banner nodded mutely, Clint gestured at the piles of torn paper. “He just needed to let off some steam. We drew and wrecked some paper.” “I’ve never…” Banner trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Usually when the other guy comes out they, um, they tie me down so I don’t hurt anyone.” “What?” Clint asked, aghast. That didn’t seem like sound medicine, not with such an easy-going persona like Hulk. “Who’ve you hurt?” Banner shrugged and averted his gaze. “Ross’s daughter came in once. I don’t remember her, but I guess…” “Sounds like he’s got a vendetta,” Clint said. He shifted his papers around, thinking. “I’ll have a talk with him, and if he doesn’t lighten up I can contact the hospital director and get you moved out of his ward.” “Wh-you would do that?” Banner looked so stunned and happy that it made Clint a little uncomfortable. “Sure, don’t mention it, seriously. Um.” He needed a distraction, something to take his mind off this heartfelt moment. “You–Hulk liked this picture. Maybe you can keep it for him. Er, until he gets reintegrated or whatever. Whatever your goal is with that. I mean, just take it.” He shoved the drawing of himself firing a bow and arrow at Banner and stood up quickly as Banner took it. He dusted himself off and strolled away to get a broom. When he got back Banner was already up, staring out the window at the courtyard below. Clint caught him glancing at the picture twice, though, as he swept up the scattered paper.

"Professor, I don't understand this...it's too difficult for me..." Alexandra whined, her adorable girlish voice, music to his ears as she abandoned her hunched-over-the-desk position and sat up perfectly straight on her chair, her platinum blonde ponytail dangling down to the floor behind her. "Come to me cutie pie" the professor called out to the only one who ever needed detention and the fact that she didn't mind the nickname made him smile from ear to ear. Watching Alexandra saunter between the empty desk, the long-braided ponytail dangling behind her, the professor had to swallow hard as he watched her sexy legs stepping in front of each other as her tight mini skirt rode slightly up her well-developed thighs. Her thighs were the thickest thighs he had ever seen! The width of the crazy muscle looking wider than her waist! Her proportions were crazy and he didn't notice at first, but he was openly drooling at the shape of them. When she reached his desk, she stood beside him, in profile and leaned over to place the math sheet on his desk. If time stopped as he watched her tight ass flex beneath that little skirt, he honestly couldn't tell, but it felt like it, because the eighteen-year-old cheerleader's butt was a work of art. God damn...how could an eighteen-year-old girl have an ass so fucking perfect? Fuck, he knew it was big, muscularly sculpted and each cheek round and firm as hell from all the times he'd seen her strut that booty around, but seeing those tight globes strain against her mini-skirt so up close, it looked far better now. Damn... it was amazing for a girl of her age. Perfectly shaped, full and round and firm, the skin no doubt as smooth and golden tanned as her shapely legs, it was just... wow. The thing was so round and big it could be seen even from her front. Accentuated like this, he couldn't imagine being able to not stare at such an immaculate butt. To think her daddy had gotten her into fitness early...the professor wanted to hand that parent a medal for his service because Alexandra looked good enough to eat. Even though he found it odd that Alexandra' father talked so passionately about his daughter's commitment to fitness during the counselling sessions, almost as if he had a vision for what he wanted her to look like, the professor had barely paid attention to it as the crush he had on this gorgeous little creature stole all of his attention. Fuck...it was time to push for more! "Come have a sit, cutie pie" the professor told the little sexpot while wrapping his arm around her tiny waist and patting his lap with the other, hoping the little bimbo wouldn't question it. And she didn't. Alexandra planted her muscular and juicy behind down into his lap, her gorgeous tanned legs crossing and his arm instinctively wrapped around her toned stomach...resting over her belly ring. "Now what is it that you don't understand?" the professor asked, resting his chin on her toned shoulder, breathing her in, the scent of her shampoo and lotion tickling his nose as he slyly pulled her further into his lap. "It's this stupid x, professor! I don't know what I'm supposed to do and I don't understand the question..." the platinum blonde cheerleader complained as her big booty settled over his pulsing cock. "Hmmmm...take your hoodie off cutie pie, I can't see with it in the way" the professor blurted out and just as he had said what was obviously a lie, he stopped breathing in anticipation. On any other of his students, he could've restrained himself and thought better, but although she was his worst student, he knew Alexandra the most. And although she was bright at many things, she was by far one the most gullible girls he had ever met. And by far the sexiest! And she didn't disappoint. "Oh, sorry professor!" Alexandra apologised before she quickly reached for the bottom of her pink oversized pink hoodie and pulled it over her head. When she had tossed her hoodie aside, he gazed down at the busty cheerleader's lovely breasts. Inside the cute pink tank top, the firm orbs of her tits looked so perfectly round, like two large melons that sat on her chest, just aching to be touched. The professor sucked a small dribble of saliva that had started to trickle from the corner of his mouth, he was drooling at the sight of Alexandra' perfect breasts. Lost in his desire for this five-foot-tall beauty, he couldn't help but moan as he gazed down at the angelic sight of her tits, which he had guessed where either a wonderful pair of double C cups or double D cups. God damn, she was sexy! Reaching around her to draw something on her paper, he slyly put his other hand onto her shapely thigh, his fingers trembling at the touch of her smooth skin and supple muscles. The professor's cock twitched against Alexandra' firm ass and unbeknownst to the cheerleader, she teasingly pressed herself further into his lap as she settled into a more comfortable position. The question was surprisingly easy, but then again, when she didn't attend the beginning of his classes, when he went over the details of what they would be working on, she had herself to blame. Thinking of a way to get more from this unique situation as this was the first time she'd sat in his lap; the professor began bouncing his leg up and down. Lost in thoughts of her sexy body and how he could get more from his worst and favourite student, the frantic bouncing of his foot had an unforeseen effect... Alexandra began to bounce in his lap. The professor gave a small moan as he felt his hard cock position itself between the perfect globes of Alexandra' ass. As the busty platinum blonde cheerleader rode on his lap, her buttocks stroked up and down the professor's hard shaft. With the busty cheerleader's tits bouncing around, he nearly lost control as he gripped onto her juicy thighs, leaving the mark of his fingers into her tanned skin. Alexandra wished he wouldn't bounce his foot like that, but since she often did it herself when she was struggling to think, she couldn't say anything. "Uhm...I think we need to use the blackboard for this. Write the task as high as you can and I'll have a look" the professor told the lovely bimbo, moments before he would've reached his climax. And when the stunning little thing slowly left his lap, the sight of her ass straining against the mini-skirt as she corrected it made his cock rise even more. Standing in front of the blackboard, the cheerleader fetched the chalk and reached as high as she could, the action sticking her tight booty out. And the professor did what he said he would...he was having one hell of a look! Because those ass cheeks jiggled lusciously as she wrote the equations down. It was the show of a lifetime, a constant jiggle that shook in both of her round cheeks, the nearly see-through mini-skirt offering him one hell of a view as he stroked his fingers through his long and unkempt grey beard. Ever since he first saw her saunter into his first class, the professor had wanted her. Back then it was her cocksucking full and pouty pink lips that drove him wild since she had lacked the confidence to display her amazing body. But ever since they rescheduled his math classes to be the last class of the day and the class after her cheerleading practice, he had gotten to see more and more of the amazing body that drove him wild. The professor knew he wasn't the only male desiring her; he could tell by how the boys in the class looked her and by how the other professors spoke of her. But then again, Alexandra was one of the few white girls attending this uni and the innocent little thing looked like a black dream come true. Hearing the sound of her frustrated sigh, he realised he had been staring at her shaking booty for a good twenty minutes while she struggled with the equations. Seeing her stop, he ruffled his short afro before he decided to push her even more. "Let me help you, cutie pie" the professor told the white beauty as he moved behind her, wrapping his arm around her upper chest as he placed the other at her hip. "Look at the numbers and try to work out which number you need for the equation to work" the professor moaned into her ear as he slyly slid his hand down from her hip. This level of boldness was uncanny from him, but he had damned near lost his mind to his lust for her body. "I don't understand!" the cheerleader complained as he reached the hem of her skirt and raised his other arm to hold around her throat, panting in her hear like an ox. "Am I stupid Professor?" Alexandra asked, crestfallen as his hand gripped whatever he could of her muscular thigh. "Heavens no!" the professor spoke quickly while he began to slide his hand up her thigh, pushing her mini-skirt upwards as he ground into her big booty from behind. "Then why am I the only one in class who doesn't understand?" Alexandra asked, her eyes flying back and forth between the numbers, completely oblivious to what was happening with the professor. "Because your mind isn't stimulated" the professor groaned into her air, rocking her back and forth as his hand grazed her g-strings. "Then how do I do...uhm...do...whatever that means?" Alexandra gulped as she remained laser-focused on the x on the board, not realising that the professor had his hand up her tight little skirt and that his fingers were pushing away her pink g-string. "Don't worry, cutie pie, this will stimulate that gullible head of yours" the professor panted as he did the unthinkable...he pushed two fingers into her teenage pussy. "Ohhhhhh..." Alexandra jolted at the invasion, and she was about to say something as she didn't think the professor were allowed to do this, but then he shushed into her ear. "It's alright, cutie pie. Forget everything anyone has ever told you about what's happening, because this is different. All I am doing is to stimulate your mind" the professor continued to bullshit into her ear and although he nearly died on the spot from how wet and tight her pussy was, her lack of response gave him hope. "Okay professor, you know maths better than me!" Alexandra giggled as he closed his eyes in delight and began to grind her booty and finger her clit with increased vigour. Sparkles and tingles shot through her body as she resumed her attempt at the equation, but she found it difficult to focus as the professor kept bumping into her and stimulating her mind. Biting on her lower lip, she raised the chalk and tried to aim, but his fingers were making her legs tremble. It felt much like when she played with herself, but the effects were much more powerful as his fingers continued to piston into her pussy. "Ohhhh..." the platinum blonde cheerleader moaned for the first time as he finally found her g-spot. The effect was instant as she closed her eyes and rested against her professor's fat belly, her arms falling down by her side. "That's it, cutie pie! That's it! Surrender to that good feeling!" the professor panted in her ear as electric shocks of pleasure spread from her pussy, tingling her spine as it raised straight to her head. "Ahhhhh! So good...oh so good..." Alexandra moaned louder, arching her back in pleasure as her professor continued to finger her, while slobbering all over her neck. But Alexandra was lost to the pleasure, the chalk falling from her fingers as her whole body began to tremble and spasm in pleasure. "Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh!" the sexy little thing moaned, over and over again as she surrendered to her orgasm, his fingers being coated in her juices and to remember the first time he successfully got her to cum, he left one hell of a hickey on her neck. When the storm within her body had settled and she no longer was but a limp body in his hold, Alexandra opened her emerald eyes. "Mmmmmmm...I feel better now, thanks professor Jamal!" Alexandra said, huskily as he continued to grind against her body. "That's good to hear, now pick up the chalk!" he groaned into her ear as commandingly as he could while slowly grinding against her round and perfect rear. God damn...her behind...it was so pert, so developed and packed with muscle...it drove him insane with lust! Any minute, whilst he was slyly humping this little bimbo, the janitor could walk in on them and catch him as it was way after teaching hours, she had used that long to work on the detention sheet he had given her and he had only added to the overtime by finger fucking the sexiest girl in school. God damn...puberty might have hit her petite body like a speeding bullet train, but that gullible head of hers had remained on the platform and keeping her far behind the rest of the class. She was such a bimbo and as she bent at the waist to retrieve the chalk, he thanked God that she was! Fuck...he nearly came at the sight of her and as he gripped her wide hips with one hand, before he pushed his raging hardon into her big booty. The rounded ass cheeks looked transparent in her pink mini-skirt! He could see every crease and he drooled at the way each cheek shook as he lightly humped the unknowing little bimbo while sucking her juices clean off his dirty fingers. "Got it!" Alexandra giggled as she reached the chalk. "Ohhhh!" she squealed seconds later when she was yanked back up by her professor, his grip around her ponytail a hard one. With the eighteen-year-old back in his hold, he walked her into the blackboard and pressed harder than ever into her delicious behind, making her gasp loudly. Holy hell...girls her age wasn't supposed to look this hot, this developed ...but Alexandra did and he wanted this teenage beauty more than anything! Because this eighteen-year-old cheerleader blew him away with her ridiculous sex-appeal. Even if someone would come and catch him, he was going to fuck this girl! He didn't care that she was fifty-years younger than him, she was too hot and gullible! And now that he had tasted how sweet her pussy was, he needed to explore it fully. With his arm around her throat, he arched her back and inhaled the sweet scent of her platinum blonde hair. "Find the x cutie pie, find the x..." he groaned into her ear as he ground into her big and succulent booty, the material of her tight mini-skirt being inched up by his frantic display of lust. "But what am I supposed to find?" Alexandra asked, a panting tone to her usually cute voice and he could hardly believe that she had yet to protest his advances. Such a hot fucking bimbo! "It's easy cutie pie...think of the x as a number, like your cup size and by using the other numbers, you have to find out what it is" the professor moaned as he began to nibble on her tanned neck, her smooth skin filling his nose with euphoria as nearly cried tears of happiness from the things she was letting him get away with. "But I know my cup size! I'm double D cups!" Alexandra complained as she reached up and wrote x equals 36 double D as the answer. The professor moaned at finally getting the real number as he knew she was a lot bigger than the other flat chested students he had in his class, but hearing her confirm she had the biggest tits in school did the unbelievable thing...he grew harder and bolder. "Convince me that's the real answer!" he moaned uncontrollably in her ear as he hunched even more over her and looked down her top. Fuck...those fine teenage tits...they had the perfect round shape, standing proud on her chest and her bra beneath pushed them up into one mighty fine cleavage. If only he could touch them... "What do you mean? How do I convince you they're real?" the gorgeous little cheerleader asked as she twisted her head around to divert her confusion at him, but he was so close that she ended up bumping noses with him. "Like this cutie pie..." the professor moaned as he raised his hand up and cupped a firm and round tit in his large hand. "Ohhhhh! Professor...uhm...I thin...mmmmhhhpppffff!" Alexandra began to question him, since she knew that only she was supposed to touch her tits, but then he cut her off, his lips pressed firmly onto hers. While he had his arm wrapped around her throat, he naturally held the back of her little head, making sure her full and pouty pink lips stayed sealed with his as the other hand groped her tits roughly. Alexandra was slammed against the blackboard as he slobbered all over her lips. It was about to happen again and she couldn't believe it. Just like her cheerleading coach, her math professor was kissing her, touching her where he shouldn't and since she always came late to math class due to her handsome coach wanting to do some special exercises alone with her, she knew what would come next. Fuck...Alexandra had to admit, her math professor was a good kisser as his tongue parted her lips and entwined with hers, but he wasn't like the fit PE coach, whose muscles rippled when he bounced her up and down under the water in the locker room. No, her black math professor was fat, unkempt, much older and downright ugly to look at...yet she found herself kissing him back. "Mmmmmmhhhhhhpppppfff!" the sexy eighteen-year-old moaned into his mouth as he twisted her stiff nipples, her heels clicking as he moved her around in an unbridled state of lust and now that she was making out with him, willingly, he let both arms fall down. The hand that had held the back of her platinum blonde head now fondled her big tits and the other travelled down her flat and toned stomach. Over her wide hips his hand travelled as the smack of their lips joined in with their moans and filled the class room. And when he found the hemline, he yanked that tight little mini-skirt up and over her hips. "Such a sexy little thing...so fucking sexy..." the professor moaned between their steaming hot kisses and when he cupped her wet teenage mound, she moaned loudly into his mouth. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you, cutie pie?" the professor asked, taking a break to teasingly bite and suck on her neck. "MMmmmhhhh...yeah...uhm...I know" Alexandra moaned as he moved her toward his desk, his fingers pulling her pink g-string to the side, her juices dripping onto the floor as twisted her nipples. "Fuck! You're so fucking hot!" the professor growled as he humped her big booty, walking this high-heeled cheerleader until her shapely thighs hit the edge of his desk. When he had bent her over the desk, she missed his hand pinching her nipples, but as she heard the sound of his zipper and felt her tank top and g-string be ripped off of her body, she knew she was in for. "You on the pill cutie pie?" he asked the stunning girl as he placed a hand on her massive tanned ass cheek, his greedy fingers sinking into the supple muscle. Alexandra had to take a while to think of which pill he meant, but since her coach had asked the same thing when they had begun their special exercises for the first time, she believed her math professor referred to the same pill. "Yes!" she proudly exclaimed as he spread her toned legs and stepped all the way in-between. "Are you a virgin, cutie pie?" the professor asked the head of his tip pressed against her shaven teenage pussy, the lips already soaked with her juices. "I'm not professor" Alexandra eagerly replied as his fat belly laid atop of her big booty, pressing down onto her tight cheeks as he slowly pushed his tip inside, teasing her g-spot. "Shame...I would've loved to be the first to have you, but at least this won't be the last time I have you" the sixty-eight-year-old professor, whose only conquest before this sexy little thing was his bitchy wife, said as he gathered her long and beautiful ponytail in his hands, readying for what he knew would be the best sex of his life. "Now beg for me to fuck you, cutie pie...beg!" the professor grinned as he arched his back, the incredible sight of her toned ass cheeks coming into view, and lined up his hand. SPANK! "Ohhhh!! Please..." Alexandra moaned as the ripple from the spank sent electricity up her spine and straight to her head. SPANK! "Ohhhhh fuck! Please professor..." Alexandra moaned as she sensed his hand readying for yet another grand slam. SPANK! "Ohhh fuck me! Please fuck me professor!" the eighteen-year-old cheerleader begged as he gripped her wide hips and slammed his nine inches inside the gates of heaven. Alexandra was way too young, but he knew that any man who saw her like this would beg to fuck her. Flushing sweetly, her face was both a whore's and an angel's, especially with a cute little button nose, spectacular blue eyes that just had this natural 'come fuck me' look. Jamal couldn't believe how perfect she was, a true gemstone of a beauty, with a body built for fucking. Jamal gripped her by the waist, before he quickly started to pound away at her as fast as he could, grunting with pure lust as he went. The desk was creaking and Alexandra' rippling ass was making a loud slapping noise as it impacted with the fat stomach beneath his shirt. "AH! OH! AH! YOU FUCK! UNNGGGHHH! AAHHHH!" Alexandra grit her teeth as she pushed herself back onto him to meet his pumping hips, which is when she felt him unfasten her bra and throw it off her now completely naked body. The sight below him was one he was going to cherish forever. She had the perfect hourglass figure, and it was his, all his. He watched with amazement as his cock slipped in and out of clutching cunt. It was too much for him and he had to stare at the ceiling for a while, fearing he would cum too soon. "That's it, cutie pie! Take that black cock!" Jamal grunted while his hands mauled her tight round ass, his fingers digging painfully into her skin. "God...you're built for black dick, aren't you?" Jamal roared before he slapped her ass hard, which made Alexandra moan in delight. "Ohhhh! Yes..." Alexandra moaned since all she had ever known since losing her virginity were black cocks pounding her. The sixty-eight-year-old fat man continued to pound away at the eighteen-year-old, slapping her ass from time to time, which always got an appreciative moan from Alexandra. Feeling like a king, he gripped Alexandra by the hips and hammered into her with everything he could. Alexandra dragged herself up onto her elbows and Jamal seized the chance and plunged his hands underneath her to grasp her massive bra-covered tits. Using her round breasts as leverage, he continued to spear her on his now frantically thrusting cock. Alexandra was now moaning and squeaking in delight, as the animalistic battering continued. "Take it cutie pie! Fucking hell your booty looks good!" Jamal grunted as he struggled to maintain the pace. Alexandra was close now, her pussy was clutching his thick cock, devouring it hungrily. He was mauling her tits, tweaking her nipples, causing her to yelp with pleasure filled pain. "Harder! FUCK ME HARDER! MAKE ME CUM!" Alexandra begged, driven crazy with lust. Jamal responded by gripping her hair and roughly yanked her head back with it, arching her back towards him. "UNGH!! OH MY...OH GOD!!! FUCK ME HARD! OH GOD!! Alexandra had been taken by surprise by the sudden forcefulness of the battering she was receiving, but it was a welcome one. "Take it cutie! Fucking born to be bred!" Jamal grit his teeth and grunted with heady excursion. He arched her back towards him by tugging on her hair, while the other spanked her ass hard. "MAKE ME CUM! MAKE ME CCUUUUMMMMM!!" Alexandra pleaded with him as she felt herself building to an euphoric climax. She pinched one of her nipples on her wildly swinging breasts and screamed with pleasure, the feeling of her hair being pulled was amazing as he continued to fuck her with maximum intensity. Jamal wasn't satisfied, however, as he wanted to have her gorgeous legs involved in the fucking. So, he pulled out, flipped her effortlessly around, brought her legs up to his shoulders and slammed back into her. "Oh yes! Keep fucking me like that! Oh my God! Professor!! Fuck me till I cum!" Alexandra could feel every vein of his thick gnarled shaft, caressing the walls of her tight velvety snatch as he thrust himself deeply inside of her. "You're a dirty little slut, aren't you? Yeah, you like getting pounded on your professor's desk, don't you?" Jamal grinned as his fingers dug into her shapely tanned thighs, her heels dangling by his ear and the muscles in her thighs rippled from the heavy pounding he was giving her. "Oh my God! Professor! love it!! AH! AH! AH! YES! FUCK ME HARD!" The cheerleader screamed with a wild look in her eyes, panting loudly. Unbelievably, spurred on by her words, Jamal found that he did indeed have one more gear left in him. His hips became a blur as he forcefully fucked the stunning platinum blonde as hard as he could. The desk began to shake and the math sheet fell off as she flailed her arms around as Jamal fucked her brains out. Jamal began pounding her more vigorously and he built up a frantic rhythm. Alexandra was soon screaming and moaning with pleasure. This was what she wanted all the time after having been introduced to it and she knew that her professor was right! This was what she was born to do. There was no talking for a while, only animalistic sounds of passion as they used each other's bodies, both working themselves up towards imminent and explosive orgasms. Jamal played with her clit, causing Alexandra to arch her back. The result of which made it look like she was offering up her huge jiggling tits for the taking. An offer he couldn't refuse. Jamal squeezed her double D cups together, thumbing her stiff nipples. Then he released one and slapped it back and forth on her chest. Alexandra legs shook and her heels came off as he fucked her silly. Alexandra was so nearly there, and took the hammering of a lifetime. "AH! AH! AH! AH! AAHHH!! UUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHH YYYEEEESSSSSS!!" Jamal felt her pussy clamp around on his cock like a vice and knew she was cumming hard. He let go of her tits and grasped her by the throat, muffling her series of guttural groans, as her body went into spasm. His other hand went back to her clit and frantically flicked across it. As much as he wanted this experience to last forever, he was soon unable to prolong the inevitable and his cock went off like a rocket. "AAARRRRRHHHHH YYYYEEESSSSS!!" the old black man continued to pump his full load deep inside her, filling her to the brim with his hot creamy jizz. Alexandra' pussy was milking him dry, and unbelievably she started to cum again as he continued to fiddle her clit. "UNGH HHH HHHH!! OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD!!" Alexandra whimpered as more intense waves of euphoria ripped through her. Jamal finally pulled his now softening dick free, but there was something he'd seen in a porn movie that he'd always wanted to try. And now he finally had a slut willing to do anything. Alexandra lay there panting, but she couldn't relax for long. Jamal slipped two of his fat fingers into her, curling them upwards. He could feel his own dirty cum, plastering her velvety walls, as he began to finger fuck her hard and fast. Alexandra' eyes rolled back into her head as he roughly fingered her g-spot and she felt like she was melting into the desk. Submitting to the intense pleasure was all she could as her ugly professor played with her hyper sensitive pussy. Jamal couldn't believe his eyes as after only less than a minute, Alexandra began to squirt. His hand was soon soaked by jets of warm liquid which erupted out from her twitching snatch. A few final shudders and she was finally spent. He wiped his cum covered hand all over her already glistening tits and gave her amazing tits a quick nibble. Alexandra covered her face in her hands and breathed heavily as she tried to compose herself, biting on her long white nails as the pleasure filled her head with delight. When Alexandra eventually stood up, her legs were shaky and when she bent at the waist to reach her hoodie on the floor, Jamal couldn't resist giving her ass one final spank. "Ahhhh!" Alexandra squealed with a huge smile on her face as the feel of his hand remained after the savage slap. "Go home now cutie pie, and let's do this again next week" Jamal told his favourite student as she put on the hoodie and pulled down her tight mini-skirt. "But what about the x?" Alexandra asked, the sweat pouring down her face and her makeup had been ruined by the pounding he had given her. God...she looked filthy hot! "You solved it! Have a look" Jamal told her while zipping up his fly. "X equals 2...but how? I didn't..." Alexandra asked dumbfounded while cum dripped down the sweaty muscles of her gorgeous thighs. "Yes, you did! You solved it cutie pie! Just now, by spreading your incredible legs and that is how you'll solve most of the issues in your life" Jamal smirked, knowing her gullible head ate it up. "Oh my God! Really? Then I can't wait for next week!" Alexandra giggled, before pecking him quickly on the lips, his thick beard entering her mouth as she did so, but when she turned to saunter back to her desk where her bag was, his instincts took over him. SPANK! "Professor!" Alexandra squealed, looking over her shoulder at him and sticking her pink tongue out at him while he watched her big booty shake as she sauntered for her gym bag. "Cutie pie?" Jamal called out to her before she was leaving the classroom. "Yes!" Alexandra replied, stopping and spinning around to look at him. "For next week, wear your cheerleader uniform" Jamal told her, groaning at the image of her sexy uniform and he knew the little bimbo wouldn't disappoint when she stuck her tongue out at him.

After returning to the bedroom from our unusual sexploits in the shower, Cynthia made the introductions, saying, "John, this is Joyce Bangg. We all call her Joy because she gives us so much joy. Now that the introductions have been made; you can get to know each other's body better." "Cyn, look at the way Johnny's cock is standing up. I bet he can hardly wait to get it into this hot black box." Joy smirked, holding the crotch of her red lace teddy up, as she stroked the tuft of black hair at the apex of her shaved slit. "Have you ever had that big white cock in a hot black cunt before?" "No. I've never had the chance to sample some hot brown pussy. I can hardly wait to taste your brown sugar." I replied, licking my lips with anticipation. "Let me help you out of your red lace teddy. I want to see the rest of your sexy, brown body" "Since you asked so nice, I'll let you help to take it off." Joy cooed, placing a foot on the desk chair, giving me an unobstructed view of her beautiful wide open beaver. "Hurry up! Get this thing off me! I want to get down to business! Looking at your big, fat cock has got my cunt drooling. I want some hot, hard fucking, right now!" Holding the crotch of the teddy out of the way, I bent over giving her damp, pouting pussy lips a sloppy lick. Slowly I pulled the teddy up, revealing her firm brown belly. Moving my tongue up her body; I licked around joy's belly button. Straightening up; I pulled the lace teddy over Joy's head; revealing two gorgeous, firm brown C cup breasts. The way her firm chocolate tits jutted from her chest was spectacular. I could not resist giving her magnificent mangoes some special attention. Raising my head; I flicked my tongue over the erect, pink nipple atop her glorious brown globe. When the hard bud was glistening with my spit; I sucked it into my mouth; giving it a gentle bite. Letting out a tiny squeal of shock and delight; Joy exclaimed, "O yes, I love when someone plays with my nipples! It makes me so hot and juicy. Bite Them! Suck them hard!" Joy ordered, tangling her fingers in my hair. Pulling me against her tits, Joy growled, "Get my juices flowing! I'm going to need lots of lubrication so you can slam that big white cock in my cunt." With her encouragement, I redoubled my assault on her heaving melons. Using my teeth, I bit Joy's nipple, as my fingers roughly squeezed and kneaded her chocolate breasts. Moving my mouth to the other tit; I began to suck hard on the erect pink nub. When I scraped my teeth along the sensitive bud; I could feel tiny goose bumps form on the brown areola surrounding her nipple. Opening my lips, I sucked the hard nipple and the entire areola into my mouth. Closing my lips around the areola; I sucked like a vacuum; while squeezing the flesh. I was trying to inhale as much of her tit flesh into my mouth as possible. Maintaining a tight suction on her breast, I moved my head backward, pulling on her boob. The whole time I continued to lick her nipple and the crinkly flesh surrounding it. By now her entire breast was shiny from my saliva. The way Joy moaned and thrust her tits out; I knew she was enjoying my ministrations. I could not get enough of Joy's delectable chocolate mangoes. "O fuck! You're tongue is making my tits feel so good they ache. I can feel the tingles running from my boobs to my cunt." Joy groaned; clutching my head to her chest. "You made my big brown titties feel good, so how about giving my cunt some of the same tongue action." Looking at Cynthia, Joy inquired, "Is he a good cunt lapper?" Receiving a wink and an affirmative nod, Joy ordered, "Start eating my cunt! Cyn says you're good at it, so get me really wet. If you do a good job, I'll let you fuck me with your big white cock." "Sit on the edge of the desk." I instructed, waiting while Joy positioned herself. "Lean back. Use your arms and the wall to support yourself. That's the way. Now place your feet on the edge of the desk and spread your legs. O yes! What a fantastic view of your pussy!" I blurted, leaning forward, grabbing her ass cheeks. "I can get my face right in there! I'm going to eat you until you beg me to stop! Then you'll have to beg me to start fucking you!" Staring down; I could make out every detail of Joy's succulent slit. Her crotch was completely shaved; except for a triangle of black hair at the top of the pink gash. The puffy, blood engorged lips of her labia were a deep pink. The contrast between the coral of her labia and the brown of her vulva was extremely erotic. The wide open petals glistened with the tiny beads of moisture secreted by her aroused pussy. The openness of her flower clearly displayed the contrast between the deep coral of her outer lips and the pale pink of the inner petals. I could no longer resist burying my face in her wet gash. Bending forward, I ran my tongue around Joy's brown vulva. It was as smooth as a baby's bottom. She must shave regularly to keep her crotch so free of stubble. With the preliminaries out of the way, it was time for the main course. Forming a scoop with my tongue; I lapped along her cleft; collecting Joy's juice; allowing it to trickle down my parched throat. The tangy, musky syrup tasted like ambrosia. Again I delved into her quivering jelly roll; gathering another mouthful of nectar. When I had slaked my thirst; I slid my tongue along her palpating lips; until I reached her erect clitoris. Joy's love button stuck out like a glistening pink finger; pointing the way to paradise. When my tongue came in contact with Joy's clit; I began lashing the quivering bud. Mercilessly I vibrated my tongue over her go button. My assault on Joy's clitoris was causing her to gasp and moan, as she slowly rolled her hips back and forth. Holding my head with her hands, Joy forced my face down hard, rubbing it against her weeping slit. I was going to bring this woman to the peak of her arousal, and force her over the top. From my experience with Cynthia, I knew scraping my teeth along a woman's clit was exactly what was needed to finish off Joy. Immediately I rasped my teeth along her sensitive clitoris. This brought a squeal from Joy; as her juices started flooding from her open hole. "O fuck! You hit the spot! I'm coming! Don't stop! Joy cried; pushing my face into her crotch; as she ground her slit against my mouth. "Suck my fucking cunt! Eat me up! Drink my juices! I'm so hot I could melt." Immediately my face was awash with Joy's juice. Like a thirsty dog, I lapped her cunt cream into my mouth. Her gyrating pussy smeared joy juice all over my face. She was pressing my face into her pulsating gash so hard it was becoming difficult to breathe. Finally the intensity of her orgasm began to subside. Leaning against the wall Joy gathered her strength; as her breathing returned to normal. With her hands no longer holding me against her pussy; I raised my cunt cream covered face; looking around. Since I was no longer occupied with devouring Joy's delectable jelly roll; my thoughts returned to what Cynthia was doing. Looking to my left; I saw Cynthia slumped in an armchair; head lolling to the side; tongue licking moist pink lips; blue eyes glazed. Her legs were hooked over each arm of the chair; clearly revealing her wide open shaved pussy. Three fingers of one hand delved in and out of her inflamed gash; while the thumb strummed her clit. Cynthia's love juice glistened on her crotch; pooling on the leather of the armchair. The other hand kneaded the flesh of her big tit; while the fingers ruthlessly pinched the taut pink nipple. Soft moans of joy came from her mouth; as Cynthia lost herself in the pleasure of the moment. Cynthia was quickly forgotten, when Joy exclaimed, "You've really got me fucking hot now! I'm ready for you to slam that fucking big white cock into my hot black cunt! Split me wide open! I want to feel it all the way up to my belly button. I want it hard, hot, and fast! I'm not one of those simpering white virgin cunts that want to play coy games! I want to get fucked now; so let's get to it!" Joy demanded, tugging on the slippery lips of her labia with her fingers, until her pussy was wide open. Joy's hot talk had made me forget Cynthia. With my attention riveted on Joy, I rapidly moved to a kneeling position on the seat of the Wheelchair. This placed the head of my bobbing erection at the entrance to Joy's wide open hole. With Joy's fingers holding the lips of her pussy apart; I inserted the purplish helmet inside her juicy snatch. When she released her labia lips; I could almost hear them snap shut; as they gripped the head of my shaft. Kneeling there, I was mesmerized by the sight of my white spear penetrating Joy's smooth brown crotch. The sight was so erotic I thought I might shoot my load right then. However, I had already climaxed three times so far that evening; so I knew I would be able to hold out until I had satisfied this wild black bitch. "What the hell is wrong?" Joy demanded; gripping my white cock with her brown red nailed fingers. "Don't just kneel there with a stunned look on your face. Slam that big cock in me." She ordered; pulling on the shaft. With Joy's lusty encouragement and Cynthia watching; I knew this was going to be a very hot fuck session. Leaning forward; I hunched my pelvis forward; driving my rigid pole into Joy's honey hole. I did not stop until I had buried my lance up to the balls inside her quivering quim. When I felt my nuts caress Joy's ass, I knew I was completely buried in her love tunnel. Giving a grunt of satisfaction; I ground my pelvic bone hard against her pussy. As Joy thrust her crotch back against me; she let out a gasp, squealing, "Right on! That's exactly what I wanted! Your big fuck pole has completely filled me. I've never been stuffed so full in my life." Wrapping her legs around my waist; Joy used her feet to force me against her; instructing me as to what she wanted, saying, "I just want to hold you inside me for a few minutes; until I get accustomed to the way your big cock stretches my cunt. Then I want you to start pounding my cunt with long, hard strokes." While we held each other; I sought out Joy's lips with mine. Forcing my tongue between her moist, red lips, I began to explore Joy's mouth. She did not passively submit to my aggressive tongue play. Joy's tongue returned my attack by probing its way into my mouth; where it began an erotic dual. Our lusty swapping of spit was causing my manhood to excitedly twitch inside Joy's tight tunnel. As my tongue delved in and out of her mouth; I had the powerful urge to start slamming my throbbing cock in and out of Joy's tight twat. Pulling her mouth from mine; Joy gave my erection a hard squeeze with her vaginal muscles; whispering into my ear, "It's time. Let's get into some hot, wild fucking. I'm well lubricated and stretched; ready for anything your big fat cock can do to me. Removing her legs from my waist; Joy planted them on the edge of the desk. This gave her leverage, while opening her gash wider, so I had easier access to her pussy. Slowly I pulled from her hot channel; savoring the way the muscles of her sheath gripped me. This woman had superb control of her vaginal muscles. When the bulbous head of my shaft was about to pop from Joy's hole, I rubbed it against her excited clitoris using short quick jabs. I then thrust forward, driving my quivering rod back into Joy's palpitating pussy. When I felt my crotch slam against her pelvis, I knew my entire length was again encased in her wet, sucking tunnel. "O fuck baby! Is this what you wanted? Do you like my big, white meat slamming into your hot oven? Do you like it hard and fast?" I inquired with a grunt, pumping my length in and out of her grasping canal. "You're so tight! It feels like you're jerking me off with a hot, slippery fist. If I hadn't come three times before I'd be shooting my cream into you right now. I love the way your pussy muscles squeeze me. You have great control." I growled, teeth grating, as I tried to hold back my orgasm. It felt fantastic as I slammed into Joy's wet hole. Again and again I drove my rigid cock in and out of Joy's grasping gash; pausing at the end of each outward stroke to tickle her clit. Each time I pounded into Joy; I could feel her love juice squirt from around my shaft; running along her thighs and onto my balls. The hands I gripped her ass with were also becoming soaked with Joy juice. Our mingled sex juices soaked Joy's pussy; causing my erection to make a squishy sound every time it slammed in or withdrew from her hole. Our sodden crotches also made a wet slapping sound every time they banged together. My lust was driven to a new height by the sights, sounds, and smells of sex permeating the room. Inhaling deeply; my nostrils filled with the scent of love juices mixed with the fragrance of sex pheromones given off by our aroused bodies. Looking down; I could see every ridge and vein of my tumescent, purplish shaft clearly defined; as it glistened with Joy's love cream. The purplish spear was clearly defined against the background of Joy's shiny brown crotch. Her brown, vermillion tipped fingers clutched my white waist; adding to the erotic excitement of sight and touch. All the sensations I was experiencing were bringing me to the edge of erotic oblivion. With Joy's hands pulling on my ass; our bodies crashed together; driving the breath from our lungs with a whoosh. I was losing all my self control. I could no longer think of anything except the pleasurable sensations emitting from the area of my crotch. I ceased thinking of Joy as a separate person. We were both part of the same sexual being; linked at the crotch. Through the haze of lust; I heard Joy cry out, "O fuck baby! I'm coming! Pound me with that huge cock! Shoot your fuck juice into me! I want to feel your spunk squirting inside me! Fill my cunt up with your cock cream!" Suddenly the dam holding back my juice burst! I could feel the first, large wad of sperm shooting from the tip of my cock head. When the first load had blasted from my erection, I withdrew, until only the flanged knob remained inside her sucking hole. Feeling my balls tighten, I again slammed back hard into Joy. Grinding my pelvic bone against her brown crotch, I sent another gob jetting into her womb. Clutching Joy's gyrating ass cheeks, I tried to hold my pelvis tight against her bucking crotch. Groaning with pleasure, I could feel my cock twitch each time I spewed another load of thick cream into her. With heart pounding, my breaths were coming in ragged gasps. My orgasm seamed to go on forever, causing time to stand still. As I was preoccupied with my pleasure, Joy was consumed by her own climax. I could feel her red nails digging into my back, as she was lost in her passion. Grunting like a rutting animal, Joy's heaving hips seamed to move with a mind of their own. I was having a difficult time keeping my cock buried inside her squeezing tunnel. Like Cynthia, Joy was a woman that did not hold back when she climaxed. As I started to come down from my orgasmic high, I began to slow the in and out thrusting of my cock. When I finally returned to the real world I felt completely drained. I noticed our bodies were covered in sweat, and our crotches were soaked with sex juices. I felt weak, so I had to sit down before I fell from the wheelchair. As I sat down, I pulled my deflating manhood from Joy's cleft. This allowed some of my sperm to trickle from Joy's still palpating pussy. As I watched, I could see it form a small puddle on the desk beneath her. Moving my gaze from Joy's crotch to my shrinking shaft, I noticed that some pearl colored drops of jism also oozed from the tip of my juice slick tool. Suddenly I felt Cynthia's hot breath on my ear, as she whispered, "Let me clean the last few drops of sperm off your cock. I love the taste of man juice; especially when it is mixed with cunt cream." Kneeling by the footrests of the wheelchair; Cynthia leaned forward; stuck out her tongue; gathering the drops of spunk oozing from the tip of my shaft. Parting her lips; Cynthia sucked my limp manhood into her mouth. Slowly she inhaled the entire length; laving every inch with her talented tongue. Creating suction with her mouth; Cynthia sucked on my soft meat; draining every last drop from my aching balls. When she had cleaned my penis to her satisfaction; Cynthia pulled the flaccid member from her mouth; commencing to wash my sticky crotch with her tongue. I was so drained that Cynthia's expert ministrations could not put any life into my dead meat. When Cynthia had lapped up every drop of pussy and cock cream from my crotch; she stood, saying, "That tasted great. I love drinking sex juice. It seems to energize me." With a mischievous glint in her eye; Cynthia turned to Joy, saying, "I just cannot get enough sex juice. Do you have a contribution for me?" Looking at the two beautiful women, I thought how this was the luckiest night of my life. Meeting Cynthia was great, but the pleasure was doubled by meeting Joyce Bangg. To be continued.

Chapter Five Abby arrived home with a huge smile on her face. They couldn't talk about Atlantis, but they talked about what Rodney's area of expertise was, or areas. He certainly was a genius. She loved watching Tony tease him and then watch Rodney get annoyed and arguing back. She could see how Tony and Rodney both loved their interaction. She could also see this is how Tony wanted his relationship with McGee to be like, but it had never turned out that way. As she arrived back, she could see Tim who obviously had waited for her to return. Abby knew why he was here, but nothing he could say would change her mind. She had to make sure that she didn't give anything away. 'Hey Timmy, what are you doing here?' Abby smiled at him. 'Where have you been?' Tim crossed his arms over his chest. 'I was out with Gibbs, Tony and Rodney.' 'Abby we need to talk.' 'If it's about me leaving, then no we don't. I am going, and if you respected me, and cared for me you would support me.' Abby glowered at him. She knew he was thinking about himself, and how it was all to do with Tony. 'Even if I think it's the wrong decision?' Tim replied. 'Tim, you have no idea what they job is.' She held up her hand to stop him from talking. 'I'm not going to tell you anything either. ' 'Abby, I love you.' Tim pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Abby pushed him back and shook her head. 'Tim, you can't emotionally blackmail e to stay. If you actually did care for me that much, you would want me to be happy.' Abby turned away and headed into her building. Tears fell from her eyes as she closed the door on him, and a part of her that had truly trusted him. She knew that this wasn't something Tim had come up with this idea by himself. He wasn't that kind of man. Tim stood and stared at the building a moment longer before he finally turned. He made his way back to his car. Once there he pulled out his cell and typed a message. Abby is still going Then he pressed send. XXXXX Tony couldn't believe in a few days that he would be back on Atlantis, and he wasn't going alone. He hoped that Gibbs and Abby loved it as much as he did. It had been nice to come back here and visit it, but it no longer felt like home. A knock at his hotel room door shook him from his thoughts. He made his way over and looked through the peephole and frowned. Tony pulled open the door. 'Ziva, what are you doing here?' 'Tony, I needed to talk to you.' 'Ok,' Tony moved away from the door to let her in. As soon as he moved passed the door, Ziva pushed him against it. 'I know you've always dreamt of this, of us.' She whispered seductively, and then she stood up on her toes and kissed him. XXXXX Gibbs sat in his basement with a glass of bourbon in his hand. This was going to be one of the last times that he would be here. He was finally moving on with his life. A new chapter and a new adventure was about to begin. He was glad that he wasn't doing it alone. He smiled at the thought of how excited Abby was about going to Atlantis. Gibbs looked forward to being able to spend time with Tony, and maybe something could happen between them. His front door opened, and then slammed shut, heavy footsteps made their way down into the basement. Gibbs knew who it was, and he wasn't surprised. 'So, you're transferring?' Fornell asked as soon as they could see each other. 'Yep.' Gibbs replied, and then took a swig of drink. He reached out grabbed a glass full of nails and tipped them out onto the worktop. He then blew into the glass to get rid of any excess dust. Fornell walked closer and watched as Gibbs poured him a drink. 'So where are you going?' Fornell asked before he took a mouthful of bourbon. 'Can't tell you that.' Gibbs muttered. Fornell just stared at him. 'Are you sure about this Jethro? You'll be leaving your whole life behind.' 'What kind of life do I have? All I do is work, and I'm tired of that. I even thought about retiring.' 'It is also your chance to have something with DiNozzo.' Fornell had known for years how his best friend felt about his SFA. 'Maybe.' Gibbs shrugged his shoulders and took another drink. 'Is there any way I can get in touch with you?' Fornell didn't want to lose complete contact with the man he thought of as his best friend. 'Tony has a PO Box that you can send letters to. You won't be able to contact me directly, and it will take a while for them actually to get to me. I'll make sure you know what it is before I go.' The two men just continued to drink in silence. Nothing else needed to be said. If this was something Gibbs needed to do, he knew that Fornell would support him. XXXXX Jenny sat in her car and waited. She had watched Fornell go in, and once he had gone she could start her plan. McGee's hadn't worked, and she hadn't heard from Ziva. It didn't take too long for Fornell finally to leave. Once she saw the car leave, she climbed out of her own vehicle. Jenny walked over to Gibbs' house and let herself in. She loved the fact that he still never locked his door. XXXXX Gibbs frowned as he heard the door go, but no one came down the stairs. He grabbed his gun, and slowly began to search his house. XXXXX The last place he needed to check was the bedroom. He opened the door, and there naked on his bed was Jenny. TBC

“You are beaten.” Luke was thrown to the ground by the weight of Darth Vader’s blade, his hip sharply cutting into an elevated step on the catwalk. The words ignited a fear within the youth as he lay dumbly on the ground, suddenly realizing the raw strength of his opponent. He could only shake in horror as the red blade inched dangerously close to his skin, closer and closer with every step, until the fire of the blade heated the skin on his face. He couldn’t move but he could feel the stray whiskers on his jaw slowly burn as the core radiated against the smooth pores.   While he own fear shook him into blinded submission, the weakened Jedi used whatever drive left in his being to scoot back further and further from his impending doom until he was practically lying completely on his back, Vader’s blade looming over the entirety of his body. Fire singed the outer cloth of his fatigues, his body glistening underneath in horrific sweat; he continued crawling until his back jagged the corner of a step. He couldn’t move back further – it was either surrender his morality or end his mortality. And for the first time in this battle, Luke wasn’t sure what the right choice was. He couldn’t give into the twisting and hateful dark side – but was he ready to give up his own life instead?   This was the man that had taken so much, murdered so many, the destroyer of millions - the angel of death that threatened the entire galaxy. This was the symbol of evil personified to young Skywalker and yet here he was; defenseless and beaten. Bones creaked and muscles sprang as he futilely tried to advance back further.  The lightsaber was all he could stare at; that blade was so close to his soul, ready to pierce at any instant. The running blood that trickled down his nose quickly formed to a crust as Vader continued. Luke looked to the masked man and then to the blade, nodding in blank acceptance, knowing full well that this very weapon could be the one that spilled his last blood and fried it into oblivion. If he was going to die, he would have to give Darth Vader hell.   “It is useless to resist; don’t let yourself be destroyed as Obi-Wan did.” As Obi-Wan did - his mind left his body as his physical being continued to fight, controlled by both blind rage and powers beyond his control. The fire had been replenished in his soul as Luke Skywalker threw his blade into the air, directly entangling it into the crimson hue of his opponent, striking forward with an intensity he had never felt before. He could barely feel the maddening red of his face, the blood in his cheeks and forehead close to burst, as he instinctively twisted to the side and narrowly dodged Darth Vader’s swipe. The hurt came rushing back, lingering abandonment and resentment returned to his will, reminding him of yet another reason why he stood here. Why he was facing a man Luke knew now he would never beat.  He remembered standing there in the hanger of the Death Star – the red blade slicing into the deteriorating robe. He could hear his own cry piercing back and reliving the old memory: his uncontrollable anger, his sudden bloodlust, a second that snapped him out of reality and into someone bent on revenge. He wanted justice - no. he wanted murder. The two were locked in combat. Luke was in a realm he has never experienced, his arms moving almost automatically in blind anger, preparing an onslaught against the Dark Lord. He stabbed forward, lunging to meet the blade, swiping back left and right. Vader had no right to say that name.  He was determined to make his one strike – his one victory in a battle marred with failure. He gives in. He detects slowness on Vader’s part and brings his blade down across his shoulder, sparks soaring into the air and shooting out into the abyss. The roar of Darth Vader filled the chamber, the massive husk quickly raising his arm into the air and swiping. Despite this one congratulatory effort, Luke knew he was soon defeated; though his soul was raised anew, his body began to slow and his movements depressed. The wrath that fueled and gave life to his motions soon slipped away as fear seeped back in to the tiny frame of a fledgling man. "You can do this, Luke," the young Jedi scampered back as he regained control of himself, narrowly avoiding a horizontal slice that would have cut him in two. An overlooking panel was sliced in two instead. He tried to distance himself even further but soon became aware of his own grim fate – the overlooking catwalk was heading towards an abrupt end. Luke turned around and faced his opponent, inching backwards, noting the charred remains of the bisected instrument panel that took that last hit for him, electrical smoke dancing in between the two warriors.  Luke struggled to ward off Vader’s ferocious attack, barely able to defend himself as fatigue continued to crush his own weight. He let go of his saber with his left hand and grasped the rail as he forced himself back as far as he could go. "Hold on," Luke whimpered against gritted teeth, refocusing his efforts on standing still and firm on the gantry.  Vader hurled his blade out and tangled Luke’s blade with his own, twisting his wrist and lightsaber in circles. "I m-must try," he whispered in his head as his vision began to glaze over. In that very instant, the gushing winds below brought up the severed half of the dismantled panel into the air, distracting Luke from the Dark Lord for just one second; a second that Vader was quick to use to his own advantage. As he stopped directing Luke’s lightsaber, Darth Vader slashed with the back of his lightsaber into the wrist of the young Skywalker. His vision was suddenly blinded by white; he could feel his vocal chords being torn to shreds as he screamed aloud for a few harrowing seconds. Luke’s eyes were blistered with tears but he managed to open them up long enough to take a look at where the pain was coming from: his hand – now arcing away from his wrist and flying downward to the shaft below. He could only stare at his stump in horror, his eyes wide as a flame flickered out of his sleeve. Luke screamed as he grasped the remains of his arm and pulled the sleeve over his stump, jamming it with blistering tears in a desperate attempt to fight the pain. He fell to his knees. His body was shaking in defeat along the slim catwalk, forcing him to let go of his arm and grip the railing again.   “My hand,” Luke whimpered in disbelief, cradling his arm as the fierce roar settled into a dull throb.  “My hand,” he cried out again, the slow realization of just what he had lost coming to him. Not just his hand – the lightsaber. He lost he weapon that gave him the courage to openly call himself a Jedi, the only remaining tie he had to his father, Anakin Skywalker. Luke nursed his stump to his breast, pressing down tightly against his armpit, trying to draw out as much distance as he could muster against the demon that bested and maimed him.   “There is no escape,” Vader hissed at the youth, “don’t make me destroy you.” He stood still in victory as Luke tried his hardest to get away from the monster of his dreams. His guts were churning and swimming out of place, begging for Luke to spill them. Everything was.. spinning.. he tried to focus harder as he let go with his remaining hand, dangling himself over an endless abyss, desperately reaching to the abrupt end of the walkway. That was the only hope left. It was the only distance left before he’d get consumed by the dark side.  “Luke, you do not yet realize your importance,” Darth Vader continued as Luke backed further away. “You’ve only begun to discover your power; join me and I can complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy.” His words entered one ear and out the other – it didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Everything was unreal, out of focus, turning and twisting into a dizzy universe that Luke struggled to understand. All he could understand was ‘join me.’ Even with all the pain, Luke managed to let out a sour laugh as he hooked himself around the central pipe.   “Join you? I’ll never join you!” “If you only knew the power of the dark side,” Vader enticed. Luke looked down to his charred sleeve, now crusted with the slight remains of ash and blood. This was only a taste of the dark side. He’d lose more than just his physical self if he went down that path – he’d join Vader and lose his soul completely.  “Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father…”   “He told me enough!” There was that rage again, oh, the fire that burned inside more than any cauterizing swipe. That passion inside the boy was waiting for a chance to explode, waiting to unleash a pain stronger than any lightsaber. Darth Vader dared to throw Obi-Wan’s death in his face. He dared to throw his father’s memory and spit it at him, minutes after taking the one thing he had of him. “He told me you killed him,” Luke spat back, staring straight into that mask.  “No, Luke. I am your father.” Luke stood still. His hood shook against the current of the wind, his hair rocking against his skin, as his face remained completely still. His eyes tighten. He looks to Darth Vader and then to the bowels of Bespin beneath him, confused, distorted by the very claim. He suddenly began to feel extremely ill, the stomach begging to wretch, his bloodshot eyes becoming clouded with heavy tears.    “Father”, Obi-Wan described his father as a great warrior, a strong general, and a good friend; a man that had been slain by the villain known as Darth Vader. He was an upstanding man that people rallied behind and fought for the good of the universe. An unspoken for hero of the Republic.  “No,” Uncle Owen described his father as a navigator on a spice freighter, a man haunted by a great love that he could never sate, a working man; just a simple man that perished due to his own carelessness and recklessness. Someone who had it all and lost it. “No, that’s not true!”  Anakin Skywalker was the man and figure of good that Luke Skywalker had always aspired to become. He had been successfully fed a web of stories about his father, some true, some false, that dared him to attempt the path laid before him. He bared his father’s lightsaber for three years, brandishing it in the hopes of feeling a deeper connection to the man, to Anakin. “That’s impossible,” Luke whimpered as he fought back the tears that stung his eyes. His lightsaber – his father’s lightsaber – was gone. The last attachment he had to the light figure of his dreams had been cruelly severed, tossed away carelessly to the wind. Luke Skywalker looked to the black-garbed figure and choked back a heavy sulk as he came to the horrifying realization: the Sith Lord did not lie.  “No!” Luke cried out with the last remnants of his strained throat, realizing the deception of all the men he had surrounded himself with. The uncle that desperately tried to normalize him, the guardian that spoke ill truths of a man that once was, a teacher that knew far more than he was letting on. His last shred of innocence was now buried with the lightsaber. “Luke, you can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this.  It is your destiny.  Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.  Come with me.  It is the only way.”                     These words felt so foreign and distant. The figure before him may have once been his father, he may even be him now, but it was not a destiny Luke was ready to choose. He wasn’t ready to give up all the work he had accomplished in the past three years. All the people he had saved, planets that had been freed from the clutches of evil, the friends he had made in the pursuit of goodness. He couldn’t throw them away like that. Luke looked down to the bowels beneath him. There had to have been several miles of distance between himself and the collapsing walls below. Suddenly, however, he felt his fear begin to recede. The channel of air that swept around him was whispering to his ear, begging him to let go. There was a choice to be made here: one of giving in and one of letting go. He turned to his opponent -  his father -  and inched back. With sudden ease, Luke Skywalker let go of his grip of the panel and let himself be carried by the current. His body danced amongst the waves of air, twisting and rocking against the current, falling down into an opening into the unknown world that surrounded the city. Luke had his eyes closed shut as he continued to fall, choosing to reject the words of Darth Vader and succumb to the destiny that fate had in store. His father. Luke tightened his eyes as he felt his physical self flail, oxygen slipping away as his mind slowly began to drip away into unconsciousness. He wanted to think, understand. His body was being thrashed about and battered yet his mind refused to waver. There was a perfect balance of certainty and uncertainty raging a war within his mind.  The physical pain he was sustaining was nothing compared to the endless torment that wrestled with the soul.  Rolling and curving against the edges of the cramped pathway, Luke Skywalker slowly began to feel his momentum shift, moving almost to a crawl. His head was spinning and he felt like his limbs were violently shaking. Everything was so cold and distant. He picked himself up from the ground, sweat drizzling down from his hair and into his face, exhausted and beaten – and yet alive. The wounded Jedi pulled up the sleeve of his right jacket to take a glance at his injury. Though it throbbed, he was surprised – and frightened – at how little it hurt him now. Where once his hand had been, a hand hardened through years of manual work that held the prize of his father, was now a precise cut of nothingness.  He sat himself completely up and sighed in sadness. Just as Luke sat upright, the floor beneath him caved in, thrusting him downward through another channel and outward into an opening that seemed to suck anything with great force. The youth was shot out of the channel and into the vast atmosphere of Bespin. Thinking quickly, he used the force of the air to propel himself downward into a vane, wrapping his legs around the base tight as his body flew hard into it. The air left his gut as his upper body reacted to the blow, the top half of his self spilling into the depths below.  Luke could have sworn he saw something spinning down miles below him – something that made his stomach churn even further – and it continued to fall until it became a speck. His eyes widened and he turned himself back to the pipe he precariously held with his legs, heaving himself upward. There was only so much he could use and only so little his body was willing to do. Wind stung as it smacked the youth left and right, a torrent of energy tugging and pulling at every inch, yearning for that moment where he loses resistance.  He closed his eyes after he let out a choked sob. The champion of the Rebel Alliance, Luke Skywalker,  had finally lost; he couldn't even bare to process that thought, that he had chosen death over life and death was ever so approaching with every minute. His fractured left hand gave him pain with every second and could only sustain its hold for so long and his right hand was.. Luke adamantly shook his head in horror, as burning pain erupted into the stump where his right hand should have been. One second it had been there grasping his weapon and the next, replaced by a smoky haze and boiled blood. Tossed away like refuge.  “Ben,” Luke whispered into the air, closing his eyes tight. The betrayal stung but Obi-Wan had always been there for him in the past. He needed him now. He deserved it after being lulled into this trap. If they had only been honest with him all along.. “Ben, please.” But that would be wrong. Obi-Wan and Yoda did not ask for him to go against his.. father. They begged for him to stay, to finish his training. He defied their wishes. Swooped up in his own arrogance and delusions of grandeur, Luke brought himself directly into this catastrophe. He had to go through it alone. Luke looked above him for anything to grab onto. He noted the grill that he fell out of was still open. The Jedi Knight hoisted himself up and grabbed it with his remaining hand. The pressure of his weight caused the grill to stir, drawing itself back up and shutting out Skywalker from Cloud City for good. There was little left to choose from now. He could either attempt to climb his way out with only one hand or sit until his untimely demise; Luke chose the former. All of his strength was slowly leaving him as his body gave way to shock but Luke was willing to make one last attempt before letting go. He shimmied his way up the pipe and the gripped the side of a panel for a few solid seconds before his legs gave in, dropping his upper half underneath his bottom. “Ben, please, hear me.” Silence. There was a dull roar of engines flying against the wind, ever so out in the distance, on their way directly toward him. They were coming for him. His father was coming for him.  Beneath him was the endless cycle of gas that pressurized and consumed. It was calling for him, pleading for him to dive into it's deadly stream, waiting for him to lose his self and plunge into the abyss of death.  Luke reflected on himself prior to meeting Yoda. Adventure was his escape. It was his escape from the cruel world around him; the cruel world that had swallowed up his parents, his aunt and uncle, his friends. All he wanted was to be a hero.. to be what he couldn't have been in the past. He wanted to singlehandedly end the Empire. He wanted to be written down in history.. he wanted.. only.. now, he realized, that what he wanted and the reality he had to face to get there was an entirely new obstacle. It began when he saw Darth Vader at Dagobah. Fear had clouded his judgment. He ignored Yoda. He ignored Ben. He ignored the capabilities that he knew his friends possessed. He wanted to face Vader – to prove himself. He wanted to prove his power; for himself, for Ben, for Leia. But his fear blinded him to his own arrogance. Now? His skills that he had thought were impressive, were feeble. His lightsaber that had given him a sense of worth and power, now lay in a tunnel grasped in a severed hand. His life had been teeming and filled with promise, now waiting to succumb to certain death. He threw it all away for naught. But he couldn't give in - he had to keep trying. “Leia.”  Luke reached out to the woman, feeling her escape. He longed to be held in her embrace, hearing her attempts to soothe, safe in a place far away. He didn’t know if she could hear him or not. She was his closest friend, the one he understood the most, the one that started him out on this adventure. The Force lead him to her - maybe it would lead her back to him. It was a last minute chance with little hope that Luke was quickly running out of.   TIE fighters began to swarm the distance between Cloud City and Skywalker. There more ships here than Luke had seen in the space battle on Hoth. They were drifting slowly towards him, steady, each opening up a top emergency hatch. The ships were there to capture him, to take him back to the Empire. Luke cursed under his breath as they began to approach. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke could see the vague shape of the Millennium Falcon in the distance. It was so close yet so far. He could sense the worry of Leia Organa on the vessel, wanting him to be saved. He wanted to be saved, too. But Luke knew he had run out of time. There was no way the ship could make it to him without taking heavy damage and risking destruction against all these ships. He closed his eyes and begged for Leia to turn around, to leave, travel far and out of the clutches of the Empire. Go anywhere, any direction, north, south, east, west. Anywhere that wasn't here and that was safe. It was too late for him. The ship and all his friends would be sitting ducks in their attempt to rescue him if they carried on.  He had gotten what he wanted – his friends safe. That’s all that mattered. Please, Leia. Luke. A voice spoke to him from within – the Force. He didn’t understand it fully nor did he know who it came from. He had to let go of the pipe. Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out any further. The muscles in his legs were collapsing and his body lacked any energy to sustain his movements. This may be the end. Let go.  Luke nodded and closed his eyes, easing his legs from the weathervane, allowing himself to fall down into the murky depths of Bespin. Luke's thighs let go simultaneously from the weather-vane, his body slipping down into the winds. He was greeted with blackness as he began to fall, his arms and legs flailing against the wind, ready to meet his maker. They seemed to wrap themselves around him, beckoning him, wanting him. He felt his boots slide off above himself as he spun round and round and round in random directions. He wasn't sure where up and down where anymore.  All he could think of what was next. Suddenly, the wind slowed. The spinning stopped. He seemed to be.. simply floating. His eyes still slammed shut, Luke assumed that this was his end. He was floating.. down? Or was it up? Regardless, he let the force guide him to his fate.. and then the slamming winds were being broken up by a mechanical wiring. He opened his eyes in confusion, wondering what was coming his way. A shuttle flew to his right, its door opening with mechanical whining. Luke let out a sob in relief before collapsing into exhaustion. Then there was a gentle thud; a sharp angle hit into his back as he fell into something. He opened his eyes. His body was squished into a tiny corner, surrounded by electronic paneling and metallic sheen. A man sat before him, his back turned away, his arms slowly rocking back and forth. The fear returned. “Lord Vader, we have Skywalker. I’ll pilot him directly to your shuttle.”

"Damnit! Stop crying already!" Ayato yelled, seriously tired of Naki's shit. He had more important things to do he thought, when in actuality he had absolutely nothing to do today.   The successor to Jason continued to ball his eyes out on the floor, curled up and clutching his sides. He bit his trembling bottom lip and started to incoherently mumble.   Ayato couldn't make out what he was saying and begrudgingly got closer. "What you are saying!?" He snapped.   In a flash Naki was on his feet, grabbing Ayato by his collar. "I WANT (Y/N)!!!" Naki shrieked, alittle spit landing on Ayato's cheek. Soon enough Naki was back on the ground, clutching his nose because Ayato punched his bat shit crazy ass.   "Y-you p-p-PUNNNCHHEED MEE--"   "Shut the fuck up! You can go!" Ayato growled, wiping off his cheek harshly with the back of his hand. He glanced at it with a hateful grimace on his face before directing his glare back to a crying Naki.   Ayato didn't care about the repercussions. "Go before I change my mind. You're on your own if you get found out." He just wanted some peace and quiet from the nutjob.   Naki beamed, screaming his thanks as he ran out of the base. Ayato watched him go, unable to understand why he would take such a positive liking to a lousy human.     You were walking home from a long day at work. Your feet were killing you. It was literally a miracle that you made it this far. You didn't get a chance to get to the door before you are knocked to the ground.   Your breath left your body as you hit the hard pavement. Loud sobbing and giggles deafened your ears as pain pulsed through your body accompanied with an uncomfortable weight.   You knew it to be your white suit cladded ghoul friend. This is the 5th time this month that you were jumped by a grown man but luckily you hadn't yet suffered from a concussion.   "Na...Ki... Please..." Your plea was muffled by the ground.   The ghoul increased the tightness of his bear-hug, rubbing his face into your hair.   "Oh my goodness! Miss are you alright?" An old lady shouted as others stared and slowed down to look at the scene currently being caused by Naki.   Unfortunately, Naki was the first to respond. "Back off, you old bitch!" He yelled, and you could hear him cracking a finger.   Oh no.   "ITS A FUCKING GHOUL-- RUN!!!!" One person shouted, the old lady screamed, probably having a heart attack as she scrambled away.   Naki got off of you, pulling you up roughly with him. He grinned brushing off your clothes. "(Y/n), I'm so happy to see you! You wanna read with me again?" He asked, casually wiping alittle blood off your cheek caused by the fall with his thumb.   You frowned as you watched him lick his thumb and hum delightfully. How could you refuse him? He would probably get mad and kill and eat you where you stand.   The bustling city street of the 12th ward was empty and quiet, only the faint sound of sirens approaching. The CCG would soon be on your doorstep if you didn't get inside now.   "Uh..Y-yeah!" You hurriedly rummage through your bag and clumsy open the door to get inside your home. After you got the door open you pushed your friend right in and shut that effing door, locking all the locks.   You swallowed your fear, and turned around to look at the ghoul watching you with.... Admiration. Cute. Wait, no. Remember you aren't enjoying this. You just want to survive another day.   You drop your bag at the door and offer a smile. "You want to read..." You pause as Naki puts his hand inside his suit jacket. You expect the worse but it's only a book he pulls out.   A chapter book.   One of your favorites.   Naki smirks at your facial expression, slyly putting a hand in his pocket for that cool guy effect. "I thought you'd like this."   Your expression slowly morphs into confusion. You never told him what your favorite book was. How did he know. How?   "Did you guess...?"   Naki shook his head. "Nah! I learned it from this other book. I was reading it while you slept but I liked it so I took it. I was going to give it back... but there's alot to read...And I don't got alot of free thyme." He frowned.   "Time." You corrected. Naki smiled sweetly, appreciating the help. A realization dawned on you and you narrowed your eyes. "Naki....You took my diary?"   "Die...Air? Huh?" Naki was genuinely confused.   You folded your arms. "My diary! My life, my complaints! My secrets.. " You whispered the latter.   "Yup! It has those things in there!" He agreed a matter of factly. He pulled it out at that point, flipping through the pages playfully. "It's my favorite..." He frowned suddenly then. "B-but...There's some stuff I didn't like so I erased it."   You stayed silent, staring at the ghoul. You were weighing your options. Square up with him or live another day. Your nails dug into your palm. "What did you erase?" You said this so quietly that the average human wouldn't be able to hear it. Naki could hear you perfectly fine, but he couldn't sense the tension in the room.   He shrugged. "Someone named... Heidi...And I put the right name! It took awhile but I fixed all the mistakes!"   You shivered inwardly. "Hide..." You felt so...Ugh. How could he do that? Is he really that stupid?   You hadn't realized how close he'd gotten. You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard his voice. You looked into his eyes, blinking. Whatever cologne he was wearing started to effect your nose. Slightly affecting your growing animosity towards him.   He took your hands in his, your eyes shooting down to his, focusing on his black polished fingernails.    "I put my name instead. I--uhmmm..." Naki looked away from your face as he struggled to find the best words for his confession.   You looked up in bewilderment, just in time to see his pale cheeks flush pink. His grip on your hands tightened abit too.   You were still upset that he would invade your privacy. But wow, this was a pretty fucking cute situation. You helped him again.   "You have a crush on me, Naki?"   He looked at you with a frazzled expression. "What? What do you mean!?" He didn't even want to fight you! That's what you meant right? Why else would 'crush' come into the conservation!?   "Naki, 'crush' means you like me. That's another way the word is used!" You explained, trying to calm the blonde down.   Luckily, it worked. Naki sighed and gave you another grin. He had really white teeth for a ghoul... Considering the kind of amount of...dining they do.   "That's really sweet of you." You smiled.   "SssooOooOo you like me too?" He sang, grinning adorably. Your smile faltered abit but he didn't notice the hesitation.   "Of course...you're nice to be around."   Naki let go of your hands and clasped his hands together happily. "Yay!"   You picked your diary off the floor and expertly flipped through it to see Naki did in fact replace every name of your crush with his own. You are ripped from your thoughts to the sounds of cracking bone.   Looking up to see the dark look on Naki's face, his kakugan showing. "That means I can kill Hideous..." The ghoul was obviously thinking out loud.   You deadpanned. "Hideyoshi. And no, you can't."   Soon enough Naki's kakugan eyes start to water and his lips commence their trembling.   "Naki.. please don't--"   It was no use, the ghoul's loud wailing shook your home.

Timeless Treasure -By Drace Domino How much time had passed? She couldn’t possibly hope to know. Seconds had turned into hours and then into minutes...and then down into milliseconds and stretched out into infinite. At least, that was what it felt like. Even during the six months following her accident she hadn’t felt so utterly weak and helpless under the slowly stretching web of time, but through it all she knew she only had one woman to blame for it all. To blame for every second of withheld tension and to thank for every infinity of delight. And somehow, that only made the girl’s muscle tense a little more, and her temper flare with bright red cheeks and a desperate wail that only barely faded through the slipstream into the active time. “--ou ‘ave to stop teasin’ me!” Tracer’s head jerked up, one eye twitching as drop of sweat actively crept up her brow. It moved past the edge of her nose and over the line of her eyebrow, sinking back in against her pores as she gave another staggered whimper. “Y’gotta end this already! I’m goin’ right daffy if it keeps on like this!” The girl was suspended, in far more ways than one. Hanging from a grappling cable with her hands suspended above her head would’ve been enough to deal with, especially with two more cables wrapped around her ankles and locking them into place at the far walls. Every limb was suspended and spread to leave the young lady completely exposed, something that was quite easy considering she was only wearing her chronal accelerator strapped across her chest. Every other part of Lena had been stripped and left bare; her small but perky breasts sitting against the straps of her accelerator and her shaved, smooth slit visible and wet and pink. Her fingers and toes tightened and flexed and her cute breasts shook with every breath, her head bobbing back and forth as she gave another whimper to the room. Once more her voice sounded vaguely out of synch, slipping quickly from too fast to too slow, and never quite where it was supposed to be. “Widowmakerpleasethisisgooooooooooiiiiiiiiinnnnnnng toooooooooooo faaaaaaarImeanseriouslywhatareyatryin’tooooooooooooo dooooooooooooooo ta’me!?” Widowmaker only smirked, and though it was a little tricky to discern the young lady’s words amidst the temporal chaos going on all around her, half of the fun was figuring out the puzzle. As the blue skinned woman stood to the side she once more moved her fingers down to a simple device she had been given; a lovely little remote control with a handy little dial synced right to Lena’s high tech chest piece. “I would think it obvious what I’m trying to do, cherie.” She offered in a sultry tone, licking her lips as she twisted the dial a little bit further to the left. Tracer’s body nearly shimmered as she took another skip forward, and that drop of sweat that had just retreated back into her pores slithered down again in double time. A soft and teasing laugh escaped the throat of the wicked assassin, and she put a hand on her slender hips as she addressed the other woman anew. “Surely you know spiders and their webs, non? You may consider this the very stickiest of them...one that you will be trapped in all evening.” “E...Evening...hahhh….feels like…” Tracer shuddered, her body twitching and trembling as she hung suspended before the other. Every little bounce and shake of her body showcased the lovely perkiness of her breasts, and the slow grind that she offered the air from a desperate desire to feel contact below. “Feels like...ya’ve had me at yer mercy for...for days.” Days, at least. Sometimes it felt more like weeks. The small laugh that came from Widowmaker’s flawless blue lips was teasing and almost cruel, and the sound of it made Tracer tremble in the past, present, and future all at once. “Oh, cherie, but it’s only been a few minutes. After all, I am still dressed, non?” She asked the question simply, and spun around on an elegant heel. Dressed was...a word for it. Skintight spandex left nothing at all to the imagination, from the cleft of her lower half in between her thighs to the sight of her stiffened nipples through the fabric at her chest. “Don’t tell me you are one of those selfish boors, always thinking with your own desires!” A flail of her arm accented the dramatic gesture and claim. “And ‘ere I am showing you all the pleasures I can bring a woman with just a few precise touches!” After all, every girl melted with a few kisses, a few licks, and a few cranks on her chronal accelerator. Widowmaker chuckled again as she twisted the knob back and pushed a lever into place, making sure that Tracer slipped back a few seconds and practically froze in place there. Time slowed down to the slowest of the slow for the young agent, and while she was frozen in that tense state Widowmaker moved forward and lowered herself down to her knees. A wide grin spread across her cruel blue features, and as she knelt before the bound and restrained girl she finally began to work. Tracer wasn’t in a situation to respond. Effectively frozen in time, the pretty and perky young thing remained motionless while Widowmaker teased her tongue across those well-soaked folds. Even fighting against the agony of the timestream in another’s hands Tracer had managed to get herself soaking, achingly wet...her pussy was raw and desperate and in dire, dire need of attention. Attention that Widowmaker gave her now with a grin, her blue lips closed around her hood while her tongue started to flick back and forth. Every lick brought a new flavor of the time trapped young woman, and since Tracer wasn’t in much of a position to respond Widowmaker allowed herself to enjoy it. More than she normally would, at least. She savored each taste like it was a fine sip of wine, enjoying it by rolling her tongue slowly back and forth across her lips and gulping each tantalizing taste down with a sensual swallow that Tracer would never see. From above her, Tracer’s body remained completely trapped, moving a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second for each one that Widowmaker enjoyed. And within that timespan, to her own internal senses, the young woman’s body was trapped in a frame of pleasure that simply didn’t seem to end. Licking her for seconds? It was hours to Tracer, an hour of a warm tongue pressed firmly against her hood. Hours of it locked in place against her folds, keeping her just excited enough within her bindings to keep her at her very edge. The fashion in which her chronal accelerator manipulated time was cruel indeed when it came to the art of sensual play, and Widowmaker was able to tease the young woman beyond the capabilities of any other. Tracer’s head was spinning, and it took every last ounce of the young woman’s energy to keep herself from going completely mad. And even if she didn’t get there completely...she’d be damned close by the end of it. Three more slow licks; that was all it took for Widowmaker to be satisfied with Lena’s flavor on her tongue. For her it was just a brief scatter of seconds, but she was confident that with a flick of the remote control Lena would have a drastically different opinion. It was with a wide, coy smirk that Widowmaker took her time standing up, knowing full well that every instant her tongue wasn’t left on Tracer’s slit was another in which the girl was simply left wet and exposed without even so much as the kiss of contact, the faintest glimmer of pleasure resting against a pussy that desperately needed it. She gave a confident chuckle before twisting the device once more, and watched with glee as Tracer shimmered before her head lifted up, practically sobbing as she barked at the other girl. “W...Where did you go just now!?” She begged, her hips thrusting forward, bucking at a touch that wasn’t there anymore. Her erratic time placement made itself known once more as her voice rose and fell in random waves, the pitch shifting while the speed stayed the same. “I thought you left! I...I didn’t feel your for hours!” “Oh cherie, I wouldn’t leave you until we’re done.” Widowmaker assured her, and moved a hand forward to caress the girl’s cheek. As she drew in close her other hand lowered and she hooked a finger inward, collecting on a single digit a tiny taste of the other woman’s nectar. With a confident and wicked smile Widowmaker drew that glistening finger forward, whispering fondly to the girl as she pressed it against her tongue. “But I confess I have been...most selfish. You’d no doubt like a taste of wine too, yes?” Her finger pressed against Lena’s lovely pink tongue, swiping in one downward motion and leaving the layer glistening against the girl. Before Tracer had a chance to swallow she pulled the time device back once more and watched as Tracer’s pupils dilated and the motions of her body came to a standstill. What was better than hours of being licked and teased, at the very edge of delight? Hours of doing it while forced to taste the proof of your own bliss. By the time Widowmaker allowed speed to resume Lena had become deeply familiar with her own intense flavor, and though the dial had only been turned for a few short seconds it was long enough in her time trapped anomaly for her to barely remember the sensation of having no flavor at all within her mouth. “S...So...so wet…” Tracer practically sobbed again, and her head dropped forward until it landed on Widowmaker’s shoulder. She simply hung there helpless before the other woman, her hands suspended above her head and her legs forced to spread, leaning against the body that stood so very, very close to her. It could’ve been anyone that she leaned against for support, but regardless of that fact the contact wasn’t lost on the assassin. With a calm touch Widowmaker allowed her fingers to slip up the back of Tracer’s neck, and she held off from the remote for a few moments, giving the girl a chance to catch her breath in the present. Then, with a gentle kiss to the side of Tracer’s neck, she gave her a slow whisper that sent a chill along her sweat-marked flesh. “Be strong, cherie. We are...not even nearly done.” Though she sounded compassionate, nothing could be further from the truth. Every drop of sweat on Tracer’s brow and every whimper from the sweet young thing was a true delight for the wicked widow, a treasure to be cherished and embraced. If she had the power she would’ve made great use of that same chronal accelerator for her own purposes, if only to let her enjoy the sounds of Lena in whimpering, desperate pleasure until the very end of time itself. C’est la vie. “No...no more, I can’t...it’s toooooooooooooooooooo muuuuuuuuuuuchtotakeyou’reamonsteryouknowtha--ahhhhhh!” The scattered sound of Tracer’s voice returned when she saw Widowmaker’s hands in motion again, once drifting towards her slit while the other tightened her grasp around her remote. As the sweeping winds of time overtook her again Tracer could only hear one thing quickly, one promise that carried her into a web of hours and seconds and screams and whimpers, all ushered to her on the menacing yet sultry voice of the other woman. “Think of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” The words came in tandem with a soft touch in between Lena’s legs, two fingers once more easing themselves against her folds and rubbing in a slow, sensual circle. Despite the torment she had been subjected to thus far Tracer couldn’t help but lean her head back and moan, her lips parting and her eyes closing as a sweeping joy overtook her. The fingers were hungrier than before, pushing past her tender slit and working inside of her, pushing in deep enough that she could feel the hint of Widowmaker’s first knuckles...then her second...and then finally her third. Once she felt the blue palm resting against her lap Tracer’s moaning face drew a delirious smile across her lips, and with a triumphant noise of joy she tightened her slit around the other woman’s fingers and gave her a hard, affectionate squeeze. After so much teasing, after so much tormenting...finally, after long last, Widowmaker would give her a deeper satisfaction! Fzzzzzp! “Think of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” The words came in tandem with a soft touch in between Lena’s legs, two fingers once more easing themselves against her folds and rubbing in a slow, sensual circle. Despite the torment she had been subjected to thus far Tracer couldn’t help but lean her head back and moan, her lips parting and her eyes closing as a sweeping joy overtook her. The fingers were hungrier than before, pushing past her tender slit and working inside of her, pushing in deep enough that she could feel the hint of Widowmaker’s first knuckles...then her second...and then finally her third. Once she felt the blue palm resting against her lap Tracer’s moaning face drew a delirious smile across her lips, and with a triumphant noise of joy she tightened her slit around the other woman’s fingers and gave her a hard, affectionate squeeze. After so much teasing, after so much tormenting...finally, after long last, Widowmaker would give her a deeper satisfaction! “Do...do you ever get that feeling of...of dej-” Fzzzzzp! “Think of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” The words came in tandem with a soft touch in between Lena’s legs, two fingers once more easing themselves against her folds and rubbing in a slow, sensual circle. Despite the torment she had been subjected to thus far Tracer couldn’t help but lean her head back and moan, her lips parting and her eyes closing as a sweeping joy overtook her. The fingers were hungrier than before, pushing past her tender slit and working inside of her, pushing in deep enough that she could feel the hint of Widowmaker’s first knuckles...then her second...and then finally her third. Once she felt the blue palm resting against her lap Tracer’s moaning face drew a delirious smile across her lips, and with a triumphant noise of joy she tightened her slit around the other woman’s fingers and gave her a hard, affectionate squeeze. After so much teasing, after so much tormenting...finally, after long last, Widowmaker would give her a deeper satisfaction! “Oh...oh no...oh no…” Lena whimpered, realizing just what was happening. It took her a few turns to realize it, thanks in part to the heavy wet haze that clung to her senses and thanks to Widowmaker’s precision skill at keeping her prey dangling by a thread. But before too long she felt the woman’s blue digits at the entrance to her sex once more, and again the assassin’s voice filled the air around them, reaffirming Tracer’s suspicion. “Think of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” Fingers pressing, her pussy tightening, and knuckles passing one after the other until she felt that hilt again. The chronal accelerator strapped to her chest wasn’t done with its new job as Widowmaker’s favorite sex toy, and Tracer found herself trapped in a moment of insertion that made her senses reel like she never knew they could. She typically prided herself in having a charming quip for nearly any situation, but there in Widowmaker’s den reliving the same moment of penetration Tracer was left truly speechless. Again and again her slit was spread and she felt that wonderful moment where blue fingers wiggled about into her depths, only to have the seconds rewind all the way back to the beginning. Push, retreat, push, retreat...in a way, it wasn’t too different from the act of being claimed properly, but with each press of those blue fingers feeling as if it was stretching her for the first time, Lena was left truly confounded and delighted and overwhelmed all in the same breath. And just when things couldn’t get any more intense for the sweet young time hopper… !noitcafsitas repeed a reh evig dlouw rekamwodiW ,tsal gnol retfa ,yllanif...gnitnemrot hcum os retfa ,gnisaet hcum os retfA “.eb llahs ti drawer a tahW .eirehc ,elanif eht fo knihTThink of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” She wasn’t merely hopping back in her own personal time anymore, she was crawling. Her typical swift leaps back happened in an instant, and during Widowmaker’s endless teasing the woman had delighted in forcing Tracer to relive that moment of first insertion from the very beginning in the blink of an eye. Fingers outside, fingers inside, flash of light, fingers outside and ready to go inside. Now the loop was much more complete, like a record spun to its final track and then forced to play back at its original speed. Fingers outside, fingers inside, screeching halt. Fingers inside, slowly pulling outside. Fingers. Inside. Outside. Cherie. Finale. Reward. Fingers. Pussy. Wet. Desperate. “Gaaaaaah!” She was unable to contain herself anymore, and though she desperately wanted to climax the assassin’s touch was simply too precise and teasing to allow it. All she could do was break into a whimpering scream through her torment, those blue digits getting slick only once, but penetrating her entrance dozens upon dozens of times. She couldn’t even be sure if anything she saw took place in real time anymore, but she didn’t need to. She knew damn well that Widowmaker was likely there watching so very close, smirking her cocky grin and playing around with a technology she couldn’t possibly understand. The chronal accelerator wasn’t a sex toy! It was the finest piece of technology known to man! Her saving grace! And...a prison of the lewdest variety that she feared she’d be trapped in for an eternity. She just wanted to cum. After all this time, after hours and days and seconds and Plancks, after jiffies and dashes and zeptoseconds and kes, after two shakes of a lamb’s tail and flashes...it just kept going. Fortnights?! Sidereal years?! Lustrums?! She couldn’t possibly know anymore, for within her trapped prison of time and teasing Tracer was left moaning, desperate, and penetrated an incalculable number of times. Those perfect flawless folds of hers pierced like the ticking seconds on a lock marching on, and words that flowed in her mind again and again and again until they became the background static of her eternity. “Think of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” “Y...Yes...yes...reward…” “Think of the finale, cherie. What a reward it shall be.” “I’m thinking about it...it’s all I can think about…” It was true. Her mind could think of nothing else. Every few seconds Widowmaker reminded her to not forget, and every few seconds that assassin’s voice enchanted Tracer even more. She couldn’t remember the circumstances in which she had been tied, whether the bindings around her arms and legs came by her own request or by Widowmaker’s cruel intentions...or even if there had ever been a time when they weren’t there. All she knew was the erotic words whispered against her throat, the gentle breath of the assassin on her throat, and the moment in which two fingers went deep within her, pressing against her walls and planting to the hilt. And once they were there they drew back out, only to repeat the process again. The feel of knuckles and sweet slender digits teasing her heated and wet walls were like the steady measurement of her own breath, and every part of little Tracer’s body mirrored itself a thousand times over as the moment replayed. Sweat that ran back and forth a well-weathered lane of her brow. A line of drool that clung from the bottom of her lip, bouncing up and down on a whisper thin thread yet never breaking. Nipples that stiffened at the moment of impact, only to shrink down ever so slightly when time relapse to the moment when Widowmaker didn’t have fingers inside of her. Tracer’s prison was pleasure, and she remained there for as long as Widowmaker desired. Not a degasecond more. Not a biennium less. After hearing the same words dozens, even hundreds of times Tracer almost didn’t realize it when they finally shifted. And to be fair, she couldn’t even be sure that she had heard the change the first time. But sure enough, with her senses still reeling and her experience shifting in an almost imperceptible fashion, something about the drawn out and repeated moment changed. Just slightly. Just a word. “Think of the finale, pet. What a reward it shall be.” It had only been a single word’s difference, but it had been clearly intentional. That wicked assassin had changed the rules of the game she herself had made up, and left Tracer to struggle and see if she could regain the pace. Everything about the moment was the same as it was; she had even pulled her fingers clear from Tracer’s slit so she could have the fun of re-inserting them to emulate that moment. But the words...the words changed, and that hypnotic, enchanting mantra that spun through Tracer’s mind had been toyed with and manipulated just enough to clue the young woman in. She couldn’t say how many times she felt it before realizing it, or how many times pet had replaced cherie in the chant of her submission. But once she was aware, her body started to notice. The slight shift in the other woman’s knuckles, the changes in her own body...all those repeated steps were different from the hundred before. In what felt like years she had effectively only moved thirty seconds, each one of them earned with sweat, nectar, moaning, and a teasing that bordered on torment. Her head continued to spin and her thoughts remained lost on her pleasure, and she gave herself up to this new experience and this new nickname as if the entire event was sparkling and fresh. A swift rewind. Then a slower pace. Then a fast forward. Then an agonizingly slooooooooooow baaaaaacktraaaaaaaaack. And then, back so far to be called cherie once more. Then pet. Then cherie again two more times. Then pet. Pet. Cherie. Pet. Each one of them came with their own unique moment of insertion, different positions of the woman’s fingers and different tingles that ran through Tracer’s body. She didn’t just have one flickering moment of delight to live in now but two; her universe effectively doubled as it manifested across her flesh in the shimmer of her chronal accelerator and the touch of wicked blue fingers. And through it all Tracer moaned, lewd and loud and desperate, craven for any sort of release. Had it been years in coming yet? Did time even begin to matter anymore? All she knew was fingers inside of her, a wickedly sensual voice, and a pair of names that she could call her own. Lena? Tracer? Who the hell were they. She was now simply Cherie...or Pet. It seemed to depend on the time. Either way and under whatever name she knew herself as, Cherie’s moment of release came suddenly and surprisingly, and at the very same moment concluded the longest buildup of an orgasm in human history. Widowmaker had rushed the girl ahead to that very moment, to when her body convulsed and her orgasm began, her thighs tightening and her eyes opening wide. Her voice, taken to a loud and desperate scream rose through the air around her, and a glorious warmth crossed over every last inch of her naked, bound, and teased body. And it was there, preciously hovering across her, sweeping her up in a heaven after what felt like a lifetime of wait, and then...and then… Stasis. Trapped. Motionless and aware of nothing but her own body, of the pleasure that had been frozen inside of her. She knew enough to know that her chronal accelerator couldn’t actively stop time; such notions were the work of silly science fiction! It could; however, slow it down so drastically, so enormously, that it was almost completely imperceptible to the senses. Especially her senses, which right there at that fragmented fraction of a fraction of a sliver of a yoctosecond? Were helplessly, completely, and entirely overwhelmed. Frozen. Mid-orgasm. For what could very well be an eternity hiding within the span of time it took for an assassin to smirk. On the outside of Tracer’s timely prison, Widowmaker did just that as she slipped her tongue calmly around her lips. Her fingers were still within Tracer, and the young woman was completely motionless yet certainly in the very heat of a glorious moment. To say that Widowmaker had won against the young woman would be a clear understatement; she hadn’t just beaten her rival but bested her on a fundamental level that shattered the girl’s reality, that broke her physics and her placement in the grid of space and time. All at the tip of her fingers, thanks to a handy little device snugly fit within her free palm. “You belong to me now, cherie.” Widowmaker whispered, under the natural assumption that she would begin to hear the words in a few years...and take several more to fully listen until she was finished. And once she made it through that haze, through that endless cycle of a thrilling orgasm, she’d be rewarded not just with Widowmaker’s promise but with the faint, light kiss that soon came after. Pressed against lips that were frozen in time, pressed against a mouth that wouldn’t realize it was kissed until longer than most people lived. That little chronal accelerator was a thing of beauty indeed, and Widowmaker fondly ran her fingers across the outer rim of it, studying the bright blue core that glowed steadily, casting light and shadows across Tracer’s elegant frame. She would make an absolutely wonderful trophy. A living testament to what Widowmaker could do to a girl with just a few fingers, a perfectly framed piece of naked art. And no matter how many times Widowmaker returned to her she would still be wet; wet enough to take a lick, and warm enough to give a kiss. The blue woman gave a tiny laugh as she turned towards the grappling hooks that kept Tracer locked into place, and she pondered cutting the young woman down in order to transport her. She had the perfect spot for her; a display case in her chambers where she could enjoy the sight of her new piece of art for years and years to come. She even had a plate engraved for the case; “Cherie in Eternal Bliss.” “...perhaps not eternal, but close enough.” Widowmaker mused, and turned on an elegant heel as she moved towards one of the grappling hooks. She was certain that before too long her curiosity would get the best of her and she’d toy with her new device once more; bringing her new piece of art back to reality and enjoying her in a more...conventional fashion. By then, she could only imagine just how broken her pet would be, how deep and hungrily she would worship the widow goddess that had recreated a timeline for her in which only orgasmic delight existed. Hell, if someone had done the same for her, she certainly knew she would. It was on that note that a look crossed the blue woman’s face, her gaze turned towards the grappling hook keeping one of Tracer’s legs suspended. She was nearly there, nearly ready to cut her down and scoop her up, deliver her to a display case and let her live there for as long as she did...and yet something inside of her stayed her hand. She had given Tracer what was essentially paradise. A lifetime of a single orgasm, perhaps the most powerful that any human had ever experienced. Though from the outside it could be considered cruel, deep down...the assassin felt a moment of envy. And moreover, a moment of affection. “...if only I could share it with you. Lena.” Widowmaker whispered, her tone softer than it had been the entire evening, and the girl’s name slipping from her tongue with an almost sad note to it. After all, things in the world were rarely what they desired...and Overwatch’s star player could never find a place alongside what Widowmaker had become. It made her ache deep down; the very fragments of what the blue woman once considered her heart. They could not be happy together for eternity...and so instead, she would make it endure forever for her dear, dear Lena. It would be many many many many years before Lena heard her name again, spoken over the course of months by a voice drawn out almost impossibly slowly. When she’d hear it, she likely wouldn’t recognize it...but she would recognize the voice of the woman that gave her an eternity of joy. At least...for now. The End.

Stiles breathed in the crisp forest air.  His chest hurt like he had been hollowed out, like those long nights after the nogitsune where all he could do was stare up at his ceiling and wonder if he was awake.  The sun was spotting through the leaves above him and Stiles tried to remember why he was outside. He was back home after finishing his last year of grad school at UCLA.  He didn’t know why he bothered to come back though.  Scott hadn’t talked to him since high school.  Kira’s family moved back to New York.  Malia hated him after their third breakup.  Lydia washed her hands of Beacon Hills the moment she got her MIT acceptance letter.  And his dad.  Stiles knew his dad was the reason he returned.  Stiles still had to settle things with the property and put fresh flowers on his grave.  And it was as if there was only a Beacon in Beacon Hills when he was home.  Stiles thunked his head back on the tree and tried to remember the night’s events.  He had gotten smashed at the Jungle, first time back there with a valid ID, had stumbled into the alley with some stranger because drunk hookups were a thing he partook in semi regularly now.  Which was of course when his hook up turned out to be a creature of the night ready to gut him and drink his blood.  Or something like that.  He could only assume because he up and blasted that thing to hell the moment it got its teeth in him.  Stiles had been diving deeper in to the magic arts of an emissary ever since his father died.  It took little effort to turn the thing to dust.  He must have stumbled out to the woods afterwards.  Stiles groaned, his head pounding from the magic and alcohol hangover.  Based on the sun it couldn’t have been more than ten in the morning.  He was in desperate need of a bacon double cheese burger and a heaping side of curly fries.  He patted his jeans down for his wallet, which was there, and his phone, which was smashed to pieces.  “Aw, fuck,” he said, standing and brushing the dirt off his butt.  He hadn’t broken his phone in two years so of course he would the day after he came back to Beacon fucking Hills.  Now he just had to figure out where the hell he was.  There was a crunch of leaves in the distance.  He didn’t exactly hear it, more that he just knew it happened.   His magic worked as a warning system of certain supernatural creatures.  It was most helpful in this hell pit. The crunch happened again, a pull of attention that tingled under his skin like a low reverberation.  A growl.  A wolf. Stiles did not have the brain capacity to deal with Scott right now or one of his stupid betas.  The crunching grew closer, faster and picking up speed until Stiles could physically hear the sound of feet pounding against the forest floor.  Stiles rubbed at his eyes.  It was somebody he knew and trusted enough not to kill him on sight, otherwise it would feel different, so he wasn’t afraid of an omega.  Still, he didn’t want to do this first thing after waking up.  His head was still ringing from the hangover. The footfalls stopped.  The world around him became almost unnaturally still.  It was puzzling, like someone was holding their breath.  Stiles took his hand away from his eyes and turned towards the thrum of wolf. Derek stood there, about as far away as the first time Stiles had ever seen him in the woods.  Just as still.  But he looked wild.  His eyes were blown, his mouth hanging open just the slightest, his shoulder hunched up and back as if he were posturing and unsure of himself rather than the ball of tension he had once been, nor the relaxed guy he had finally been able to become with Braeden. And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost. “Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods.  It’s practically a tradition at this point.” “Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut.  Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again.  “You’re not- you can’t be.  Who are you?” Stiles squinted his eyes at Derek, checking for damage.  “Dude, are you okay?  Are you on something?  I don’t see a bullet wound.”  Stiles took a few steps forward but from the way Derek tensed up more, he thought it may be best to just stay put.  “Look, man, I know we’re not friends but you also know I’m the best bet to treat you if you’re hurt, so.” They stared at each other for a long time, or what felt like forever.  It might have been only a minute or two.  Something in Derek’s body language told him to stay still, so he did.  Maybe Derek was high.  It’s not like Liam didn’t figure out how to lace his drinks and roll an aconite joint the moment he figured out the normal shit wouldn’t affect him.  More tingling came from Stiles’s left, another wolf he knew was approaching.  He looked over when they got near and tensed up, a perfect mirror of Derek’s body language. Erica froze in her tracks when they made eye contact. “Holy shit,” Stiles cursed, taking an unconscious step back.  He darted his eyes between her and Derek.  “Did you get into some black magic when I was gone?  What the hell!”  Because Erica was dead.  She’d been the first of a domino effect that tore him apart.  And now she stood before him, an adult and a bigger bombshell than her high school self could ever compare to, whole and alive. “Stiles?” she asked, the same disbelieving tone and gut wrenching sadness in her voice as Derek’s. Stiles opened his mouth to talk.  You’re alive.  You’re alive and all grown up.  You’re here. “But you’re dead.” Those weren’t his words, they were Derek’s.  Stiles snapped his eyes back to Derek, who was looking firmly at Stiles, not Erica.  “What?” Stiles asked.  He was too hungover for this.  He told them as much, clutching his throbbing head.  “Will someone please explain to me what is going on?” “Stiles,” Derek said, sounding broken.  “You’re dead.” Stiles laughed, although something about Derek’s tone of voice told him he wasn’t lying.  “Since when?” Stiles asked. “One year, four months, and twelve days,” Derek recited.  And there it was again, the lack of lie.  It was too quick, too hurt, too much like he’s been counting the days.  It couldn’t be a lie.  “Why.. what?” Stiles scrunched his forehead trying to grasp what the hell was going on.  “You’re trying to tell me I’m dead.  What year is it?” “2020,” Erica replied. “May 27th, 2020,” Stiles said, which was todays date, at least it was when he passed out this morning. “Yeah,” Erica said, her stance growing apprehensive. “So, I didn’t lose any time.  I just got home from school yesterday.  There’s no way I’ve been dead for a year.” “Stiles-,” “NO!” he snapped, throwing his arm out and pointing at Erica.  “You don’t get to talk because you’ve been dead since you were sixteen!”   His voice reverberated through the stillness of the forest, a sub-audible echo that hit his bones.  The sky above felt too oppressive.  The silent standoff lasted for another few minutes.  Then Stiles’s stomach growled.  “Maybe we should take this somewhere else,” Erica suggested, “Gather the gang, do some research, and get some lunch.” Stiles shifted his weight, unnerved by the situation.  “Yeah, okay.”  He could be a rational human being, even with a hangover and a dead girl nearby.  He’s had weirder moments. Erica turned to Derek, a concerned look on her face.  “Do you want to stick with us, or?” For the first time, Derek’s eyes left Stiles to meet Erica’s.  It was apparently all the prompting he needed to dash away.  “Jesus, what’s up with him,” Stiles muttered, earning him the brunt force of Erica’s glare. “Other than you crawling back from the dead?” she snapped. Stiles shrugged.  “If I really have been dead for a year I still don’t see why he’d be that freaked out.  I’d be the fourth person to come back.  Not including yourself.” “You don’t see why?” Erica hissed, storming over.  “Stiles, what the hell?” Stiles took a step back as she came closer, throwing his hands up in surrender.  “Hey, don’t get mad at me.  I’m not entirely convinced I’m not still asleep.” Erica growled.  Stiles let her manhandle him, leading him away from his faithful tree-bed.  Home sweet home, right? On the way to their destination, he couldn’t help but watch Erica and hold in a panic attack.  His imagination wouldn’t have been able to come up with her.  She had aged.  Even now he could only image the 16 year old who went through a dramatic transformation, how she postured him in the halls.  She was different, too.  Her red lipstick was darker, her curls softer, her clothes more relaxed.  She was real, he told himself.  She was a person who had lived the last nine years.  Erica led him to a large Victorian styled house that felt oddly familiar.  He knew this area.  “Is this…” Stiles trailed off in disbelief. “Is this what?” Erica asked, holding in her anger.  It was the hurt kind of anger.  She was just as confused as he was and she wanted to lash out because of it.  Stiles looked back to the house, walking up the porch, trailing his fingers over the white painted wood.  The door was a cherry red that pulled old memories from the start of junior year of high school.  It was the color Derek had used to paint over the alpha’s symbol.  Stiles opened the door, shoveling his anxiety into a box in the back of his head.  The house was lived in.  The couch had a blanket slung over it, crumpled from recent use.  There were a few empty cups sitting around and someone’s bag was by the coffee table and a pair of shoes under a chair.  There was a coat rack with a familiar black leatherjacket, along with a few other jackets that weren’t as familiar but reminded him of people by their color and cut, but none of those people would be here. “Is this Derek’s house?” Stiles asked in disbelief.  “Yeah,” Erica said, wary and almost offended by the comment.  “You should know this.” Stiles frowned, following her into the kitchen.  On the way he froze, catching sight of a photograph.  It was of the pack: Derek, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica, smiling at the beach, and clearly out of high school.  His stomach dropped, and he knew.  He knew without being able to grasp the whole mechanics behind it.  This was real. But this wasn’t his reality. Stiles collapsed onto the stool that was pulled up to the kitchen bar.  It was a nice kitchen.  It was weird.  Stiles had expected to return, finish the paperwork to make his childhood home no longer his house, and leave to never look back.  He wasn’t expecting to find a whole different Beacon Hills. Erica texted what Stiles could only assume was the pack and pulled out a tupperware of leftover meatloaf.  She stuck it in the microwave and the scent was intoxicating.  It smelled like… “That smells like my mom’s,” he said, heart aching. Erica frowned at him, almost guilty, it wasn’t a look Stiles could place.  She looked sad.  “Yeah.  Derek makes it every Thursday.” “Derek knows my mom’s recipe?” Erica’s frown deepened.  “Yeah.” Stiles frowned, waiting for the microwave to ding.  Erica placed the meatloaf in front of him with a fork and steak sauce.  Stiles looked at it blankly.  Most people ate meatloaf with ketchup.  Stiles never did, but Stiles also never ate meatloaf with anybody besides his dad.  And this was his brand.  This isn’t something she should have known about him. “Erica?” Stiles asked, after pouring the sauce on the meatloaf and picking up his fork.  “Yeah?” “How did.. how did I die?” His fork hovered over the meatloaf waiting for an answer.  He couldn’t meet her eyes.  It was somebody else’s life he was asking after.  “How did I?” she replied.  He looked up, biting his lower lip.  He wondered if Erica had figured it out, that he never died, that he wasn’t theirs.  She was smart though.  She knew he wasn’t… right. “You and Boyd were kidnapped by the Alpha pack and you tried to fight your way out and Kali killed you.” Her breath caught, her own memories swelling to the surface behind her eyes.  “I was never kidnapped,” Erica said. “And the Darach?” Stiles asked before taking a small bite of meatloaf.  It tasted just as he remembered making it for his dad, but it somehow also tasted like sand on his tongue, like he was tasting something he wasn’t supposed to and it was souring the experience. “You figured her out pretty quick when she seduced Derek.  We took her down before she got too strong.” He nodded, as if it made sense.  He wasn’t sure it did.  He wanted to know what else was different.  He wanted to know why he was here.  If studying magic taught him anything, it was that there was always a reason, a flow like the ley lines beneath the earth.  He was born near the nemeton, drowned for the nemeton, and reborn from the nogitsune who had been trapped in the nemeton.  And all a nemeton truly was, was where the ley lines clustered.  Stiles was a cluster of magic after the world he had lived through.  He must have followed the magic without even realizing. “Erica, how did I die?” he repeated. She looked at him for a long minute: remembering, contemplating, gathering courage.  He still couldn’t read that sad look on her face.  Then he felt the under-the-skin tingle that told him a wolf was growing closer.  Erica turned her head to the front hall and moments later Isaac and oh my god was that Allison, rushed through the entrance, staring at Stiles in disbelief. She was beautiful.  She’d gotten bangs and her hair was straight and feathered out.  She looked so sure and confident even in the trembling of her hand as she stared at Stiles.  Tears and guilt was building behind his breastbone and she was twitching for her bow. “Allison?” he asked, her name slipping out in a whispered heartbreak.  She died because of him.  Because he was the weak link when the nemeton was knocking on doors, waiting for somebody to open.  He had been separated physically from the nogitsune at the time but he had still felt its chaotic desires, its greed and glee when Allison was stabbed.  Then Boyd entered behind them and Stiles couldn’t help the tears.  The last time he saw Boyd it was as he was dying, forgiving Derek with his last breaths.   “Who are you?” Allison demanded, her hands whipping to pull out her side arm in an easy movement.  A lethal weapon was pointed at him and he didn’t so much as flinch.  “Who the hell are you because you don’t get to come here and wear our friend’s face!” Through his own tears he could see the wetness trailing down her face. Boyd placed a hand on her shoulder.  “He smells real.”  “Does Derek know?” Allison asked Erica, keeping her weapon up. “Derek found him.” “Well shit,” Isaac muttered.  Isaac, who Stiles hadn’t seen since halfway through Junior year and he moved to France.  And Boyd, who was dead.  And Allison, who was dead.  And Erica, who was dead. He couldn’t hold back the anxiety any longer.  His head was spinning, breath growing short.  One in Two out he told himself, but that didn’t change the way the air caught in his throat going in in in in in.  The world around him slowed and sped and tilted until hands around his biceps pulled him to their body, dropping to the floor.  A weight of someone’s palm against his chest, holding him down and anchoring him, the rhythm of his heart beating against their hand, their heartbeat bouncing off his back, a perfect symmetry of an erratic tempo. Words in his ear.  It’s okay, it’s okay.  Shh.  You’re safe.  The promise of comfort and compassion just in the soothing tone of a broken voice trying so hard to be whole.  Trying so hard for him. Stiles gasped, gaining control of his breathing, slowing his heart, taking in his surroundings and the arms encompassing him.  Stiles turned his head to stare in confusion and amazement.  “Derek?” Stiles turned more in Derek’s grip, caught up in the terrified look in the man’s light eyes, blue and green and gold.  Derek reached up and caressed Stiles’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears.  Stiles pulled back, confused.  Derek flinched.  They scrambled apart, Stiles standing on shaky legs. “Thanks,” he muttered.  Derek nodded, standing gracefully and… defeated.  Stiles took in the pack, standing around in various levels of shock and mourning.  “Is this everybody?” Stiles asked dubiously.  He directed the question to Erica.  She seemed to have her head on her shoulders better than the rest.   Erica nodded.  “What happened to Scott?” Derek’s head snapped up, alert and even more confused. “Oh, Stiles,” Erica said sadly.  “How different were our lives?” “What is she talking about,” Allison demanded, hand still twitching on her cross-bow.  Stiles backed up, frowning.  He looked between them all, eyes landing on Erica.  She understood.  Of all of them, she understood. “Erica, what are you talking about,” Allison repeated.  “This is Stiles, real Stiles.  Just, not our Stiles,” Erica said.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Isaac scoffed.  “Is this resurrected Stiles or is this some new monster with Stiles’s face.” Stiles sat down on the nearest seat, all the twisting of his mind and body of the day exhausting him.  “It means exactly what she said.  I’m not who you think I am.”  Stiles looked down at his hands.  “I should try and find a way to get back.  Is Deaton around?” “Get back where?” Derek asked.  That was desperation, Stiles was sure.  “To my own world.  I don’t belong here.”  His earlier thoughts came back to him.  “Although I must be here for a reason.” “Where did you come from,” Allison persisted. Stiles just shrugged.  “Someplace parallel to this.” “A different dimension?” Boyd asked. “Or something like it,” Stiles said. “God, what the hell are we going to tell his dad?” Isaac whispered. Stiles snapped his eyes up with shock and desperate hope.  “My dad’s alive?”  He could see the shock on their faces.  Stiles scrambled to his feet, darting to the door.  Boyd wrapped his arms around him before Stiles could reach the exit.  “Let me go!  I have to see him!” he pleaded.  “Stiles, no,” Boyd said.  “Not until you’ve calmed down and we’ve taken stock of the situation.” Boyd, always the voice of reason.  Stiles took a deep breath and relaxed in Boyd’s grip until the other man let go.  “Are you going to call Deaton?” Stiles asked.  He caught Derek’s eye again, who looked on the edge of tears.  He dashed away without another word. “Seriously?  Again?  Why does he keep disappearing like that?” “Seriously?” Boyd scoffed.  Stiles just turned to him with a scrunched brow.  It truly didn’t make sense to him.  Boyd searched his face and the mask of anger fell to disbelief.  “You really don’t know.” “Know what?” Stiles asked.  He didn’t like being kept in the dark.  He was the stranger here, surrounded by ghosts.  “Will someone, please, just treat me like a newbie and tell me who Stiles was to you, because I am not your Stiles.” The silence was stifling.  They looked at him like he was a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing just waiting to turn tables and attack them.  He’s not their Stiles.  So he must not be Stiles at all.  Allison fiercely wiped away a tear and turned on her heal.  She ran up the stairs, Erica quick to follow with one last glance at Stiles.  Boyd diverted his gaze and pulled out his phone.  “I’ll call Deaton,” he said, slipping out the front door.  There was a silent line of communication between Boyd and Isaac before the door shut: keep an eye on him. Isaac walked over to where Stiles sat, his leg shaking minutely as he stared Stiles down. “You smell human,” he commented.  “But, more like Deaton.  You have that extra tang of magic about you.”  Isaac shrugged and took a seat on the couch.  “Stiles smelled the same, exactly the same.  I don’t think an imposter could have faked that.” Stiles hummed and bit at the quick of his thumb nail.  “But you smell different, too,” Isaac continued.  “Derek’s much better at reading emotions in scent, but you have this underlying hurt, I guess, and anger, that Stiles never had.” Stiles huffed.  Figured.  “Yeah, well, in my life I don’t exactly talk to any of you anymore.  I’m a bitter, lonely old man and I’m only twenty-four.”  Stiles forced himself to stop picking at his nail bed.  He looked up to Isaac in earnest.  “How’s my dad?” Isaac shrugged.  “You did die only a year ago.  But we make sure he’s eating healthy and not drinking too much.” Stiles gave him a sad smile.  As good as could be expected.  Better, even.  If he had died before his dad back home, there would have been no one around to take care of his old man.  Stiles felt the sting of tears surfacing.  “Sorry, I just,” he wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath.  Isaac just shifted uncomfortably.  “So,” he said after some silence, “what am I up to in your weird parallel dimension?” Stiles let out a wet laugh, a little hysterical.  “In France, last I heard.  You moved there after… you moved there back in Junior year of high school, between semesters.” “Why?” he asked, sounding like France was the last place he would have gone.  Stiles looked up to him and wondered how much of his life he should tell.  These people didn’t need that heart ache.  They didn’t live these tragedies.  “What’s your relationship with Allison?” he asked instead. Isaac looked up the stairs.  Stiles could only assume there were guest rooms up there and Allison and Erica were occupying one of them.  “We dated back in high school.  She was my first love, you know.  I had crushes on other people before she moved to town, sure, but our relationship was that whirlwind of teenage angst.  We broke up when we decided to go to different colleges and just never got back together.  We grew up and just aren’t those people anymore.  She’s a good friend.  I’ll always love her, in my own way.  You know?” Stiles nodded.  “Did you guys deal with the nogitsune?” “The what now?” Isaac asked, eyebrow raised in a truly impressive look of skeptic confusion. Stiles frowned.  That’s a no.  The nogitusne happened because Stiles, Scott, and Allison sacrificed themselves to find their parents.  Because Jennifer took them. “But you did deal with the alpha pack and the darach,” he muttered to himself.  There had to be a lynch pin here somewhere.  “But Erica and Boyd were never kidnapped.” “They what?” “After the Kanima-” “What the fuck is a kanima?” Isaac asked, even more confused than before. Stiles frown deepened.  “Derek never bit Jackson?” “Jackson?  Jackson Whittemore?” Isaac laughed in disbelief.  “No!  Why the hell would Derek bite Jackson?”  Stiles shook his head.  “I never asked.  I assume because Jackson was a dick and Derek was hoping the bite wouldn’t take.  Once Jackson found out that he could become stronger he pushed all the right buttons.”  He sighed, biting his thumb again.  “Why do you think he didn’t bite Jackson here?” “Because you helped him pick his betas,” Isaac said without a second’s pause, like it was the most obvious thing and the fact that Stiles didn’t know this was alarming.  Stiles pulled his thumb away from his teeth again.  “I helped Derek,” he said in deadpan disbelief, “with his pack.”  Isaac’s eyes frowned despite his attempt at a reassuring smile.  “You helped all of us.” The lynch pin had to be further back then.  Maybe this whole world was slightly off.  Something changed before he was born.  Maybe there’s a huge series of events that are just different, no one point that split their timelines.  Maybe- Stiles remembered Erica’s voice saying his name when he asked about Scott. “Scott,” Stiles whispered to himself.  He looked up to Isaac in dread.  “What happened to Scott McCall?” Stiles watched Isaac’s expression crumble.  “What happened to your Scott McCall?” “A lot of things,” Stiles spat.  “Answer the question, Isaac.” Isaac looked down at his hands and bit his bottom lip.  “He died.  In the woods.  I remember the news going around school.  There was an announcement in all the classes during first period.  It wasn’t until later I learned it was because the bite didn’t take when Peter had attacked him in the woods.  You told me that’s what would happen to me if the bite didn’t work.  I got it anyway.” Stiles heart beat triple time in his chest, the verges of a panic attack closing in on the edges of his vision.  He could picture it now.  The guilt of brining Scott out to find Laura Hale’s body, working with Derek to find the killer, the alpha, to find Peter.  No Scott meant no star crossed romance with Allison.  No trap in the school.  Stiles never would have said Derek was the murderer after the first time.  Scott not turning meant Jackson never found out about werewolves, so he never would have pushed to be one.  He probably never broke up with Lydia.  “What happened to Lydia Martin?” Isaac shrugged.  “Graduated top of the class and is now doing NASA stuff I think.” Lydia must never have been attacked by Peter which means.. “And Peter Hale?” “Buried under this house, which is kinda creepy.” Stiles took a deep breath.  Peter was never resurrected.  Lydia never learned she was a Banshee.  Scott never bit Liam.  The alpha pack probably went down entirely different if they were only after Derek and not Scott’s potential.  “Kate Argent?” “Also dead.  Peter killed her.” “And she never came back?” Isaac gave him a strange look.  “She died.” “She turned into a were-jaguar,” Stiles supplied, exhaling sharply.  “Shit,” Isaac said, like he was just realizing how sucky Stiles’s life was.  “You’re from the gritty universe.” Stiles barked out a laugh.  He was, that was a perfect analogy.  “Yep.  You guys are all sunshine and rainbows compared to my life it seems.” Stiles still had a million questions.  What happened to Cora and Malia and Victora Argent and Meredith and Parrish.  Did Kira ever even come here if they never dealt with the nogitsune?  He didn’t have time to voice anymore before Boyd entered telling them Deaton would be over in ten and Erica came downstairs to force Stiles to finish his lunch. “I could hear your stomach all the way upstairs, Stiles.  I don’t care if you’re a figment of my imagination, I’m feeding you.” Stiles had to smile, though he was still dazed by all the revelations he’s had.  He thought back to Scott over his meal.  This wasn’t just a puzzle.  Scott was dead.  Sure, they had fallen out of favor over the course of time, but so do most friends.  Especially when one was an alpha werewolf and the other blamed him for his father’s death.  But that didn’t mean they weren’t still friends on some level.  It didn’t mean that all those years they were inseparable went away.  Over a plate of meatloaf Stiles grieved for the Scott he knew before the bite and the Scott this Stiles never got to know after.  It was probably the most profound meal he’s ever eaten.  There came a knock from the door.  None of the werewolves seemed surprised, probably heard him half a mile off.  Stiles’s assumption that it was Deaton was proved correct when Boyd opened the door and the emissary turned vet walked in.  Stiles stood, his meal settling uneasily in the pit of his stomach.  Deaton looked over him, mouth slightly open.  The level of emotion on the man’s face was minimal, but more than Deaton ever normally let slip. “Hey Deats, what’s happening?” Stiles asked, needing to break the silence somehow.  Deaton’s look was too much for him to handle.  “Stiles,” he said with wonder.  Deaton placed his bag upon the floor and walked forward, already examining Stiles if the way he squinted his eyes slightly was any indicator.  Stiles stayed silent as Deaton did his thing.  Deaton reached out, pausing to meet Stiles’s eye.  “Do you mind?” he asked.  Stiles shook his head.   The vet looked Stiles over in detail: his eyes, his moles, his fingernails, his teeth.  He went back to his bag and pulled out some powders and solutions and rub a salve on Stiles’s forearm and some other things.  Stiles didn’t need to ask what things were, he knew.  It was clear the pack didn’t, however.  Isaac kept wrinkling his nose, trying to sniff out the different ingredients and Erica’s brow furrowed every time Deaton tried something new, her mouth opening slightly on occasion with an intake of air, readying for a question she never asked.  “Well,” Deaton said after a while, taking a step and giving Stiles a once over, “how did you get here?” Stiles shrugged before running a hand over his tired eyes.  “I was drunk when it happened, to be honest.  I was attacked by something and I blasted it, next thing I know I’m waking up in the woods.” Deaton hummed.  “Do you know what the creature was?” Stiles shook his head.  “I remember,” he stopped to think about it, “he tried to bite me.  He might have, actually,” he trailed off.  He pulled at the collar of his shirt but there wasn’t any marking to indicate the thing sunk its teeth into him.  Stiles frowned.  He was fairly certain the thing bit him.  “And you used magic while you were drunk?” Deaton said, a judging look over his features. Stiles shrugged again.  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”  “Well,” Deaton said returning his things to his bag, “one thing’s for certain.”  He quietly put all his equipment away before catching the eye of everyone present.  He so did love his dramatic pauses.  Deaton looked at Stiles. He opened his mouth to speak but Stiles already knew this riddle. “If the ley lines you should follow,” Stiles quoted, “and your dwelling at the end,” “And find your presence has been hollowed,” Deaton continued. “Your hereafter is to amend.” There was a beat of silence. “Okay well that was thoroughly creepy,” Erica said, crossing her arms nervously.  “What was that?  Some sort of doppelganger password?  Seriously.” Deaton shook his head, eyes still trained on Stiles.  “You’re much more well versed in this than the Stiles from this time,” Deaton commented. Stiles gave a sort of half smile, looking away.  “Doesn’t surprise me.” Allison took a step between Stiles and Deaton.  “Are either of you going to tell us what’s going on,” she said crossly, not quite able to make Stiles’s eye. “It’s simple really,” Deaton said.  “Stiles, this Stiles, was brought here from a different line of events.” “But why?” Boyd asked. Deaton gave them all a sad smile.  “To fix something.”

“Hey, wake up. We have a case.” “…what?” Light stabbed at Dean’s eyes when he tried to open them so he quickly shut them and groped blindly for a pillow or something to cover them. “I said get up, sleeping beauty. Come on, we have a job. First one in weeks, thought you’d be excited!” Dean poked one eye open to see Sam fully dressed and looking far too chipper for how early it was. “What time is it, exactly?” he asked, trying to read the tiny display on his watch face through squinted eyes. “It’s time to get on the road. Job’s in the next town over and we can stop for coffee on the way.” “No breakfast?” Sam threw a banana at Dean’s head. “I want to get to the crime scene before the feds do. Don’t make me use my alpha voice on you.” Dean groaned. It was too early for this, but he found himself smiling in spite of himself. Perhaps Sam’s good mood was contagious. “Fine, fine, just…go be perky somewhere else for a few minutes, alright?” Sam winked and grabbed their bags to pack up the Impala. Dean took a shower. Normally he’d take a nice long and hot one, more to annoy Sam than anything, but today he was feeling hot and itchy in his own skin so he took a cold one instead. It didn’t help much, but he did feel a bit more awake afterwards, so he considered that an improvement. “You presentable yet?” Sam peeked his head in the room. Dean turned and smirked at him, still naked from his shower. “Presentable enough for you?” “Hilarious. Get some clothes on. Fed suit, preferably.” “Only if you promise to tear it off me later.” “Deal. I’ll be in the car.” Sam left and Dean got dressed, even though a stiff suit was quite possibly the last thing he felt like wearing today. The drive was blissfully short, only 45 minutes or so. Normally Dean lived for the open road, and the sound of the engine purring, but today it just made him feel claustrophobic. They stopped for coffee and donuts at Dean’s request. It did little to make Dean feel better, but he was looking forward to getting to work. “So, five people are dead, and you think Ichabod Crane killed them?” They were pulling through the town, looking for the address of the latest victim. “Not Ichabod Crane, a dullahan,” Sam corrected him, “A headless rider, like Ichabod Crane. None of the victims had anything in common with each other, but two witnesses have reported a shadowy figure riding away on a horse, not a usual sight in this part of Maine, and one of the witnesses claims the horseman didn’t have a head.” “Okay, so how do we kill it?” “First, we have to check the body, make sure that’s actually what we’re dealing with. If it is, the lore says they can be scared off by the sight of gold.” “Gold?” “Yeah. No clue why. But I figure we just need to find its next victim and make sure they’re wearing something gold when the dullahan comes for them.” “Do we even own anything gold?” Sam pulled a gold pin from his pocket. “Bobby says we owe him one.” Dean smiled. “Good old Bobby. Okay, so how do we know if we’re dealing with a dulla-whatever?” “The dullahan will often lash out its victim’s eyes with its whip. The articles didn’t mention anything about their eyes, but the cops might be purposely keeping that detail quiet, probably assuming they have a serial killer on their hands.” “That is just delightful,” Dean said, feeling slightly ill. “Yeah. And don’t ask what the dullahan uses for a whip. You don’t want to know.” “Got it.” They pulled onto a side street and parked opposite a police squad car. “Okay, this is the place. You okay?” Sam asked, looking concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just eager to get this over with.” Sam didn’t look convinced, but he got out of the car, and Dean followed. “Agents Beckley and Bunnell,” Sam introduced them to the cop at the door. She barely glanced at their fake badges before nodding and leading them inside the small two-story house. “We’ve been expecting you fellas ever since the fourth body showed up. We’re trying to keep the word ‘serial killer’ out of the papers, but people are definitely going to start drawing that conclusion for themselves after this one. Just can’t hide five deaths in a town this size for long, you know?” The cop led them up the stairs and to a room at the end of the hall that was presumably the master bedroom. Sam and Dean flashed their badges at the second cop and crime scene tech inside, and the cop beckoned them over to the bedside where the body was sprawled with an arm covering the eyes, as if trying to hide from some terrible sight. “About time you folks showed up. I was ready to call you in myself after this one,” he said in a gruff voice. “The bureau has a lot of cases and not enough men, but five deaths in as many days, that’s kind of hard for us to ignore,” Sam explained. He nodded. “Especially in a town like this. It’s usually so quiet around here. The worst case I worked before this week was a murder-suicide back in ’95. Now we’ve got five murders in five days? Frankly, I’m all too happy to hand this one over to you guys.” “We understand if this is hard for you,” Sam said gently. “You’ve done a great job so far,” Dean added. He wasn’t sure why, but he liked the guy, and a little flattery felt like the right thing for the moment. Sam glanced at him strangely for a second before turning back to the cop. “Exactly. But like you said, we’ll take it from here. We’ll just need the case files and a minute with the body, if we could.” “Be my guest,” the cop said, and signaled to the crime tech to leave them the room. Once they were both out of the room, Sam turned his attention to the body. “Well, are the eyes whipped, or whatever?” Dean asked. Sam pulled on a rubber glove and tried to pull the man’s arm away from his eyes, but it didn’t budge. “Rigor mortis,” he said dejectedly. “Won’t be able to tell for another day or two.” “Great, so now what? Case files?” “Case files,” Sam nodded. “I got this.” Dean led them both out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen where the two cops and the crime tech were chatting. “We’re just about out of your hair,” he said, pulling the second cop aside, “All we need now are those case files and you can let us handle the rest.” “They’re back at the station, if you guys want to follow me there?” he said. Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Sounds like a plan! And if I may say so, you’ve done some solid police work, here. Seriously, you should be proud.” “Okay,” Sam said, grabbing Dean by the arm. “We’ll be right behind you,” he said to the cop, and gently pulled Dean out the door. “Hey, what was that about?” Dean asked, once they were outside. “You totally went all alpha on me in there.” Sam shook his head. “Nothing, you just seemed a little…never mind.” Dean shrugged and they got in the car to follow the cop to the police station. Dean felt even antsier in the car. The trip was only a ten minute drive, but it seemed to drag on forever, and the car felt unusually hot for being this far north. “Is the heater on or something?” he asked, as they pulled into the station parking lot. “No, are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked. “Yeah, I’m fine. Quit asking me that,” Dean snapped. “Maybe you should stay in the car.” “What? No. We got a job to do. Let’s do the job, come on.” Dean got out and followed the cop into the station, feeling Sam following close behind. “I’ll have the files out in a jiff, you boys just wait here,” the cop told them, and disappeared into a locked office. “I think we should talk to the cop more, you know? Really get his side of things,” Dean said, “He might know things that were left out of the files.” “I think we should go back to the motel.” Sam pressed his lips together the way he usually did when he wanted to argue with Dean but was trying to be reasonable. “The one you were so eager to leave? Why? That’s like 45 minutes away, we should stay here, find out what this guy knows.” Sam was about to reply when the cop returned with several files in his hands. “Got your copies ready. Had my partner print them out fresh this morning, and I included all we have so far on the body from last night.” “That’s great, thank you,” Sam said, taking the files. “Yeah, that’s great. We should probably get your statement on all this though too, while we’re here,” Dean said before Sam could excuse them both, “And then after we could get d—” “And that's an excellent idea,” Sam interrupted him, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder, “Just give me one second with my partner here, okay?” Dean turned to look at him, feeling both irritated at being interrupted, but also strangely turned on by the characteristically alpha move that usually would have annoyed him to no end. “One sec,” Sam assured the cop, and turned to lead Dean away to talk privately. “We have to get you out of here,” he whispered. “What?” Sam swallowed nervously. “I think you’re going into heat.” The reality of what had been bothering Dean all day hit him all at once. The hot, itchy, uneasiness that had him wanting to crawl out of his skin, the way he found himself wanting to please the alpha cop with every fiber of his being, all of it. He’d gone off the suppressants for the first time since puberty months ago, after Sam had finally claimed him as a mate, but he hadn’t had a heat since he’d first shown as an omega. He’d forgotten all about it, until now. “Now you tell me,” he said. “You’re probably already feeling it. Whatever we do is up to you.” Sam looked concerned, but patient, and Dean was grateful he wasn’t pushing him into anything. Not many alphas would be so gentle. Dean was definitely feeling it though, and now that he knew the cause, it was somehow even worse. At least he knew the cure. “We're going back to the motel and I'm going ass-up for you,” he told Sam matter-of-factly, trying not to smirk when Sam visibly shivered with suppressed excitement at Dean’s choice of words. “We actually have to deal with some other matters before we get your statement,” Sam said loud enough for the cop to hear as he turned back, leading Dean in the opposite direction towards the door. “Thank you for the files, and you have a good day!” Dean practically fled to the Impala, stripping off his tie as he went. He got in the passenger seat since he was in no shape to drive. “How are you doing?” Sam asked as he got in the car. “How do you think? Drive. I need you in me like, yesterday.” Wetness tickled between Dean’s legs and he was glad Sam hadn’t let him stay and interview the cop. Sam gunned the engine and spun the car out of the parking lot, heading back towards the motel they’d left less than three hours before. “So how did you figure it out?” he asked, pulling off his suit jacket and tossing it on the backseat. “That you were going into heat? Well for one, you’ve been on edge all day, and for two, you’re kind of putting off pheromones. I didn’t notice at first but I can definitely smell you now. Besides, you kept flirting with that alpha cop, and he wasn’t even hot.” Dean grinned. “He wasn’t, was he? Not like you.” Dean slid a hand between Sam’s legs and Sam’s foot pushed down a little more than necessary on the gas. “Was I making my alpha jealous?” “A little,” Sam admitted, keeping his eyes pointedly on the road in front of them. “But it’s not your fault. This is the first heat you’ve had since you were a kid, right?” “Yeah. I didn’t even realize what was going on until you said it. With the suppressants I didn’t have to worry about it. I’d just be a little hornier than usual for a few days and that’d be it.” “We still have some in the trunk, if you wanted. Might take the edge off, at least.” Dean shook his head. “No, we agreed. I’m mated to you now; feels like cheating not to take full advantage of that.” He squeezed Sam’s crotch and felt more slick soak into the back of his pants as Sam drove faster. They reached the motel in record time, both of them grateful they hadn’t run into any more cops along the way. Dean was first in the door, already stripping off the rest of his clothes before Sam had even shut it behind them. “Is it hot in here or is that just me?” Dean asked, only half-joking. “It’s just you,” Sam teased, “But I’ll turn the AC on anyway.” Dean stripped off his boxers, his last article of clothing, and watched Sam struggle with the room’s ancient air conditioning unit before taking off his suit jacket. “Let me help,” Dean murmured, pulling Sam towards the bed. He pulled Sam’s shirt out of his pants and started unbuttoning it as Sam began kissing his neck. “You smell so good, Dean,” Sam whispered, “I thought you always smelled good, but now…” Dean gasped as Sam bit down on his neck, not breaking the skin, but still hard enough to bruise, a claiming gesture that would have sparked a challenge in Dean on an average day, but today just made him grow harder, slick beginning to drip onto the bed beneath him. “God, Sam, I need your knot. Please, I need it.” Dean knew he was being pathetic, but Sam didn’t seem to think so. Sam groaned and rutted against Dean’s abdomen, and Dean could feel him growing rock hard, knot just beginning to swell. “Roll over,” Sam growled. Dean obeyed as quickly as he could without throwing either of them off the bed. He pressed his face into the mattress and planted his knees firmly to raise his hips and present his ass to Sam. Wet slick was dripping down his thighs and Dean bit his lip to keep from whimpering in need. “So wet for me already,” Sam said in an awed voice. “I’ve never seen you like this.” “Never needed it so bad.” Dean wiggled his hips in annoyance. “Come on, man, I don’t got all day.” Sam growled again, and Dean felt Sam push a finger into the wetness of his hole. “Fuck, yes,” Dean panted, “Give me more, come on.” Sam pushed in a second and a third and Dean pressed back into them, rocking his hips and trying to screw himself on Sam’s fingers as best he could, hoping it would quell a little of the burning ache that had begun to grow in his gut. It didn’t. “Your fingers aren’t gonna cut it, Sam,” Dean grunted. Sam kissed Dean’s back and Dean could feel Sam’s hair tickling over his skin. “Just making sure you’re ready. Don’t wanna hurt you,” he said softly, voice lower than usual. It sent pleasant shivers down Dean’s spine. “You’re not gonna hurt me. I trust you, alright? Please, just mount me already.” Dean felt Sam’s nod in acquiescence, and just when he thought Sam was going to change his mind after all, he felt Sam’s full length plunge in, hot and huge and filling him up in exactly the way he needed. “Oh, god,” Dean whimpered. “You alright?” Sam asked. “Better than,” Dean replied. “Please. Fuck me.” Sam leaned back, pulling half way out before pushing back in until they were flush, hips to buttocks. They moaned in unison. Sam repeated the motion, harder this time, and Dean rocked his hips back to meet him. Sam set a slow but hard pace, and when Sam’s cock brushed Dean’s prostate he cried out and fisted the bedspread tightly in his hands. “Faster, Sam,” Dean begged. He needed to be filled, needed to feel Sam’s knot, large and locking them together. Sam moved faster. All Dean could hear was the slap of skin and their harsh panting breaths. Precome smeared across his belly as his cock rubbed against him. As if reading his mind, Sam dipped his hand to palm Dean’s cock, jerking him slowly. Dean got lost in the feeling of pleasure, needing only one more thing to reach completion. “Can you feel it?” Sam asked, “Can you feel my knot?” Dean could, then. Sam’s knot swelled to catch on the rim of Dean’s hole, and Dean finally came, spilling across the bedspread as Sam shuddered and began to fill him with come. Sam draped himself across Dean’s back, kissing the back of his neck and whispering words of love and encouragement. Dean felt like he was floating, happy and filled in every way he had ever craved. Dean barely noticed when Sam pulled him to the side, spooning him and curling around him protectively as they waited, attached hips to ass, for Sam’s knot to shrink again. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked, kissing Dean’s shoulder. “Like I want to just lay here for an hour then go again.” Sam chuckled and it sent happy vibrations all over Dean’s skin. “You’re insatiable.” “I’m glad I went off the suppressants.” “Yeah? Not as bad as you thought it’d be?” “Better than I ever imagined. Now I get why some omegas want to be mated so badly.” “Then I’m glad you’re mine.” “Hey, no chick flick moments.” “You started it.” Dean laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Hey, aren’t we supposed to be going over those case files and figuring out the next victim of the callahan thing?” “Dullahan. And I think that can wait until after round two, don’t you agree?” “Please,” Dean laughed, “Try round four, at least. Don’t know about you but I’m just getting started.” “Pushy omega.” “Sissy alpha.” “Ready for round two?” “Round one was like three minutes ago.” “So you’re ready?” “Obviously. Bring it on.”

W: John? W: Obviously you’re not there right now, but I’ll keep this window open just in case W: You were right about this site - they really ought to include some way to tell whether a potential “date” is online or not. This “message them and blindly hope” setup is less than ideal. J: William! Sorry, I was out. J: Give me a minute to put groceries away and I’m all yours J: Sorry to make you wait W: John W: It’s not like I’m able to do much else at the moment J: Bored out of your skull? W: You’re a doctor. You must know what hospitals are like. J: Spent a few months in one after I was shot. Yes, I know exactly what they’re like. J: I get the impression you can’t say what exactly happened, but can you tell me what your injuries were? Besides the (I assume) smoke inhalation and burns? W: Depends - will it win me more sympathy if I say I’m in horrible pain? Or should I shrug it off and take the more masculine “it’s just a few broken bones” tack? J: Berk :-) Did you really break something? Wouldn’t expect bones to mend in just a few weeks. W: No, nothing actually broken. The short version is that there was a fire, I got out of the building, but I ended up having to walk quite a ways to alert my employer of my predicament. The resulting sand and dirt in some of my wounds has increased my risk for infection - hence the lengthened recovery time. J: Ooh, yeah, that can be bad. Was I right about the smoke inhalation? W: No lung damage, but yes. J: I’m sorry. W: Don’t be - fire isn’t usually a recommended means of concluding a business transaction, obviously, but in my case it simplified a lot of things. And enabled me to finish what could have been a tediously long professional slog. Even with the recovery time, I’ll be back home sooner this way. J: Sounds like you don’t particularly like your job. W: It’s necessary, but I hate it. I keep traveling and traveling and everywhere I go is not London. J: You love this city that much? W: It’s the only place I’ve ever felt I really belonged. The first time I visited, as a child, I ran away from my nanny and spent two hours just wandering around Regent’s Park by myself. It felt like home, even then. J: Jesus! How old were you? W: Young enough to be picked up by a police constable who thought it was odd I was without an adult. J: Did you do that often? Wander off? W: Only when I was bored. I didn’t much like that nanny. J: You grew up with nannies, then? W: My parents were - and still are - very busy most of the time. Both are world-renowned in their fields, and neither had all that much time to devote to actually raising their children. J: Hence all the boarding school. W: Exactly. J: I guess that’s one area I was lucky, then - my parents both doted on me and my sister, until my dad died. Mum hasn’t ever been quite the same since, but she still does her best. She knits me a lot of jumpers. W: Do you wear them? J: I do wear a lot of jumpers :-) There’s something about a short doctor in a wool jumper which really helps patients relax enough to tell me the truth about whatever their issue is. W: Are you good, then? J: Depends on what I’m asked to do ;-) I can’t perform field surgery anymore, which is why I ended up back in London in the first place, but I do wish I got to see more than mystery rashes and sore throats every once in a while. I’ll admit I get a bit of a thrill out of the patients who have something terribly embarrassing and are trying to hide it from me. W: Like what? J: Without giving away specifics on any given patient - usually it’s some sort of STD they say they contracted from zombie mosquitoes or licking the toilet seat in a pub loo. They almost never admit to fucking the neighbor or the secretary or what have you. W: They’ll admit to licking the toilet seat in a pub loo rather than saying they’ve had sexual intercourse? J: “It was a dare.” It’s always a dare. W: Your patients are idiots. J: A statistically significant percentage of them, yes. Idiots tend to need more medical treatment because they do idiotic things on a fairly regular basis. J: You ever injure yourself doing something stupid? I think everyone has to have at least one childhood A&E story. W: Actually, no. J: Really? W: My second and subsequent nannies were hired for their knowledge of first aid and emergency medical care. I never had to go to the A&E as a child. J: . . . J: What happened to the first one, then? W: It wasn’t entirely my fault. J: Let me guess - she was the one who ended up making the A&E trip? W: This would make a better story in person. So I could see your facial expressions and know when I should stop talking. J: Ha J: Okay then J: I’ll look forward to hearing the whole thing. Embarrassing childhood stories make excellent first-date fodder. W: And you’re looking forward to a first date with me? J: More than I like to admit, even to myself J: I hope that doesn’t scare you off too much J: I mean, I’m not pinning all my hopes of forever and ever on you, of course, but you’ve been the only person to actually make me feel *happy* since my flatmate died. Even if it doesn’t work out between us, I can’t regret having taken this chance. W: Even if it means a sexual identity crisis? J: Even so. J: It wasn’t that much of a crisis, anyway - more of an acknowledgement of what’s been lurking under the surface for years. W: That you’re attracted to men too. J: That I’m *potentially* attracted to *some* men. It’s not the same as it is with women. Took me a while to work through how that worked, exactly. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. J: Have you ever been interested in women (or any specific woman) the same way you are to men? Or are you gay all the way through? W: “All the way through” makes it sound like my left foot or my arse or my spleen could be heterosexual and the rest of me not W: but no, as a general rule, I’ve never been sexually interested in women. There have been one or two for whom I’ve at least seen the appeal, but I’ve never been tempted to act on it. J: How about when you’re doing all this traveling - do you go to places where being gay is illegal? Do you have to hide it? W: Homosexuality is varying shades of illegal in much of the world. I really don’t come across as “gay,” though, so there’s nothing to hide. W: Truth be told, I have an unusually low libido. Always have. It doesn’t bother me to go without sexual stimulation for fairly significant periods of time. I’ve never been desperate enough to take risks anywhere that might have caused me trouble, so it’s not been an issue. J: So you just . . . don’t? Whenever you’re traveling? Don’t you travel pretty much all the time? W: I did say upfront that I don’t often seek out encounters of that nature. You, John, are a glaring exception. J: Want to be an exception again tonight? ;-) W: Much as I’d love to say yes, I’m not really in a position to sex chat (or whatever it’s called). I’m still hooked up to a vitals monitor, and someone would probably notice if my heartbeat suddenly sped up. W: Among other things. J: Shit, I’m sorry. I totally forgot. Now I feel like a complete arse. J: You’re not overexerting yourself chatting with me this long, are you? W: Not at all W: Actually, that’s a lie. I’m exhausted. But I don’t want to say goodnight. J: Don’t, then. J: You get some sleep and we can both leave this window open and you can imagine it’s me sitting with you. W: That’s strangely sweet. Thank you. J: I’ll be here until I head to bed. Get some rest. J: Hey J: It’s midnight here J: At the risk of the text alert waking you up, just wanted to let you know I’m signing off for the night J: Write to me tomorrow?

Sarah sat the table with five books open and papers scattered all over. The library was pretty much empty other than a few students trying to cram last minute for exams, but Sarah didn't notice. With each passing hour, she filled more and more pages with writing and covered the pages with sticky notes to remind her to add or edit something or simply to record where she got a certain piece of information so she could give the proper credit at the end. Several of the younger students walked by her and shook their heads while others whispered about her and walked away. It didn't bother Sarah. She knew she didn't fit in and probably never would. Unlike her classmates, she actually came to the University to learn and get her degree. Parties, sports events, and even dating were things she just didn't have time for at the moment. Those things could come after she got her education and had a good-paying job. The fact that her best friends and roommates, Tammi and Dani, managed to drag her out to any social event was impressive. Although she was secretly dreading the party on Saturday. Sarah hated the frat parties. It was always the same. College kids, most of them underage, getting drunk, puking all over and being very loud and annoying. It wasn't Sarah's idea of a fun Saturday night. Sighing, Sarah put her pencil down, sat back in her chair, and stretched her arms over her head. She turned side to side and twisted her neck around to work out the kinks. The worst part of sitting for hours was the cramps in her muscles. Glancing at her watch she noticed it was almost 5. Normally the library closed at 6, but with it being exam time they extended their hours for the students. Deciding a bathroom break was needed, she grabbed her purse and headed to the ladies room. She wasn't worried about leaving the rest of her stuff. No one would want her books or notes. Plus Mrs. White watched everyone like a hawk so nothing got by her. Sarah relieved herself, washed her hands, splashed cold water on her face, and then got a drink from the water fountain near the bathroom. When she returned to her table she felt more awake and refreshed. Her good mood greatly lessened when she saw who was standing by her table looking over her notes. Frowning, Sarah closed her eyes and groaned as Jason, aka The Duke, read over her notes and scratched his head. She was certain he didn't understand a single thing written there. Taking a deep breath, she walked over and pulled the chair away from the table. "Can I help you with something?" "Hey, Sarah. I thought this was your table from all the mumbo jumbo." Jason replied. "Mumbo jumbo?" Sarah shook her head as she sat down. "Nice technical terms Jason." "Please Sarah, call me Duke," Jason said as he sat on the edge of the table. Sarah rolled her eyes. She didn't know if he thought he was John Wayne, the Duke of Earl, or the thin white Duke, but it was obvious that he was none of them and Sarah refused to play into his delusion. "If you don't need anything, Jason," she made sure to use his real name, "I really need to get back to work." "I hear you. I won't bother you long. I was just wondering if you're going to the party at the Pike house on Saturday?" Sarah groaned internally. She didn't want to be stuck at a party with the self-proclaimed Duke. "I don't know. I have a lot of work to do." "Your roomies say you promised to go," Jason said as he leaned closer. He ran his hand up her arm slowly. "I was thinking we could spend a little time together. I know a nice quiet place where we could be alone." Pulling her arm away from his hand, she moved as far away as she could with out tipping her chair over. "No thanks. If I go the party I'll be with Tammi and Dani all night. I'd only be going for them." "And what are you going to do if they get dates? Surely you wouldn't want to be the third or in this case fifth wheel." Jason moved and took her hand in his. "I'll keep you company." Sarah tried to pull her hand away, but Jason held tight. "Let go!" She almost yelled as she struggled to get her hand away from him. "Not until you give me your word that you'll be at the party," Jason smirked. Before she could respond, Jason's hand was yanked away from hers as someone grabbed his wrist and twisted it. "I believe the lady asked you to release her." The man said firmly with a very obvious British accent. "And just who are you?" Jason demanded as he tried to pull free. "I'm the new Librarian." The man answered. "You're disturbing Miss Williams who was working very hard. Now if you insist on continuing to be a nuisance I must ask you to leave." He let go of Jason's arm, but not before he gave it one final twist. "I wasn't hurting her," Jason argued. The Librarian looked to Sarah with a raised eyebrow. Sarah stared at him, unsure of what to say or do. Tammi hadn't been exaggerating at all. He was perfection. His dirty blonde hair was short and neat. It had some wave to it but not a single hair was out of place. As he adjusted his silver wire frame glasses with one hand, Sarah couldn't help but think that she'd never seen anyone make glasses look so hot before. Her thoughts were interrupted by him asking, "Was this..." He hesitated and looked at Jason with disdain as he searched for the right word, "boy, bothering you?" Blinking several times, Sarah swallowed to try and moisten her suddenly dry mouth. "Uh.. yeah actually he was." "Oh come on Sarah." Jason pleaded. "Look we were just having a friendly chat." Jason tried to explain himself. "Friendly chat?" The Librarian questioned. "I wasn't aware chatting, of any variety, involved physical contact. Perhaps you and I should have a friendly chat and allow Miss Williams to return to her work." Jason shook his head and started walking away. "No, that's alright. I gotta get going." He stopped a few feet away and turned back to address Sarah. "I'll see you at the party beautiful." He winked at her and then hurried out of the building. Sarah glared at his back and then groaned in frustration as she turned back to her work. She quickly re-stacked the pages that Jason has scattered about while she was away from the table. "Stupid jock." She muttered under her breath. Hearing an amused chuckle, she looked up to see the librarian still standing by her. She studied his face as he stared at the direction of Jason's hasty exit. He was clean shaved and his skin looked incredibly soft and tempting. She could almost imagine what it would feel like against her fingers. Sarah ducked her head, slightly embarrassed when he turned his head and caught her staring. "I do hope I was able to intervene before he harmed you." "Yeah, you did. I'm fine. Thanks." Sarah gave him a soft smile and watched as he reached his hand towards hers. "May I?" He asked when his hand was inches from hers. Sarah wasn't sure what he was doing but found herself nodding her consent. Gently he lifted her arm towards his face and pushed the sleeve of her light blue sweater away from her wrist. He examined it carefully before giving her an approving grin. "No bruising to be seen. I was worried he may have blemished your delicate skin." He didn't let go of her arm, but Sarah didn't mind. She was gazing into his sapphire eyes. The pupils were two different sizes and Sarah couldn't help but feel she had seen them somewhere before. In fact, he seemed oddly familiar but she couldn't say why. Before she could think about it too much, the angry voice of Mrs. White filled her ears. "Mr. Kingsley, what on Earth do you think you are doing?" The man, who Mrs. White called Kingsley, released Sarah's hand and turned to face the now fuming librarian. "I was simply offering Miss Williams my assistance. There was a nasty young hooligan bothering her and I wanted to ensure she was alright." Mrs. White looked to Sarah, who was staring at her arm where his warm hand had just touched her skin. "Are you alright Miss Williams?" Looking up, Sarah nodded. "Yes, Mrs. White. As Mr. Kingsley said I was being bothered by Jason. He started to get aggressive and grabbed my arm. Mr. Kingsley came to my aid and got him to leave. He was just checking to make sure I didn't have any bruises from Jason grabbing me." "I see." Mrs. White eyed her replacement suspiciously. "Very well then. If all is well, let's allow Miss Williams to return to her studies. I'm sure you have other things to do." Kingsley nodded. "Yes, I have a couple rather important things to attend to." He looked back to Sarah and smiled. "I'm glad you're alright and that I could come to your aid. If you need further assistance, please don't hesitate to call for me." He gave her a slight bow and walked away. Sarah watched him leave, her eyes wandered over his lean figure. The black turtle neck and tan blazer he wore hid the exact structure of his upper body, but his tight slacks showed off the physique of his legs very well. Sarah almost wished the blazer wasn't so long so she could see if Tammi was also right about his ass. She grinned as she looked back at her books. She felt a little silly for ogling the new librarian and tried to return her focus to her thesis instead of the attractive man that had just rescued her from the evil jock. ~*~*~*~/.../~*~*~*~ Jason entered his dorm room and tossed his jacket down. "What the hell was up with that guy?" He asked the seemingly empty room. As he made his way to his small room, he didn't notice several pairs of eyes watching his every move. Nor did he hear the giggles when he entered his dark room and closed the door. "If you value your pathetic life, you'll stay away from her." A deep voice filled his room. He turned the light on in a panic and nearly ran at the sight he saw. Sitting on his bed in full battle armor was a very intimidating figure. His wild blonde hair framed his face like a halo, but the grin on his face was far from angelic. "Who...who are you?" Jason asked as he backed away until his back collided with the wall. "Someone you do not wish to anger." The Goblin King stated coldly as he stood. "I warn you only this once, stay away from Sarah. She is under my protection. Any further attempt to insert yourself into any part of her life will be dealt with accordingly. Should you touch her again..." He paused and tilted his head with a smirk. "Well I may be forced to remove that part of your body and insert it somewhere you won't find very pleasant." Taking a step towards the boy, Jareth placed his hands on his hips. "Have I made myself clear?" Jason fell to the floor. "Yes." he squeaked. "Good." Jareth turned and walked away. Stopping at the window, he turned back to the shaking pile on the floor. "Oh and should you attempt to tell Sarah or anyone else about our little chat, you'll find yourself in the bog of eternal stench. As a reminder, I believe I shall leave a few goblins with you." "Gob...goblins?" "Yes, they are certain to find you very entertaining." Jareth laughed evilly and then changed into an owl and flew out the window. Jason looked around nervously as he heard voices fill the room. "Hello?" When the voices grew louder and things began to fly around the room, he hid in his closet for the next hour, praying it was just a bad dream. ~*~*~*~/.../~*~*~*~ Sarah sat with her head leaning against her hand. She was beginning to feel tired and try as she might fighting off sleep was getting harder and harder. She shook her head, trying to shake herself awake. Yawning, she felt her eyes closing and was unable to stop her head from slowly coming to rest on the table. Sarah sat up and found she was still in the library. It was dark outside and only a few lights were on in the building. Sarah glanced at her watch to find it now had 13 hours instead of twelve. Groaning, she stood and looked around. "Where are you?" She called out. She knew she had to be dreaming. There was always a sign to tell her it was a dream. 13 hours on a clock, suddenly finding herself in a fancy dress, waking up in the Oubliette or the tunnels, or the sickening smell of peaches. Jareth stepped out from behind a bookshelf. "Hello, Precious." He grinned. "Why are you here?" Sarah demanded. "Why, to see you, my pet." "I'm not your pet Jareth." "No?" He asked with raised eyebrow. "Such a pity." He shook his head. "I had planned on giving my sweet pet a delightful treat." He moved closer and walked around her, circling her as a predator circled his prey. "You have nothing I want." She said defiantly. "Oh, I don't?" He smirked as he moved closer, his hand ghosting across her back and arms. "You're certain of that?" "Yes." She said weakly. "Shall I prove you wrong?" He stopped right in front of her and caressed her cheek with his gloved hand. "Shall I make you beg for it?" Sarah swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump in her throat. She could feel his eyes travel up and down her body, just as they had done so many nights before. She felt the heat of his body as he moved closer, nearly embracing her as he moved to place his mouth by her ear. "Don't..." "Don't what?" He whispered. She whimpered softly as he nipped her ear with his sharp teeth. "What's wrong Sarah? Normally you're so willing to play my game. Are you worried about our current location? I promise there's no one else here." "That's not the issue." She responded. Jareth pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Could it be you'd prefer me to be someone else?" He frowned and studied her face, looking for a sign that that might be the case. "What? No, I don't... I mean... That's not what I'm talking about." He smiled at how flustered she became. "Would you rather I read to you? I'm sure there are some delightful stories in this place." He stepped away and walked to one of the rows of books. He pulled one from the shelf and opened it. "I remember this one. It's a good one. You used to love acting out your stories at the park. I admit I'd love to see you act out a few things from this book." "What is it?" Sarah asked as the curiosity got the better of her. "It's called The Story of O." He answered as he continued to flip pages. "Yes, I believe you would be a marvelous O." He closed the book and sat it on the table. "I'd love to see you in just an owl mask, offering me your leash and your body. Though I'd prefer that the leash is around your neck. I wouldn't want to harm your sensitive labia like they do in the book." Sarah felt herself start to get warm from his suggestion. She could see the feral look in his eyes as he imagined seeing her like that. Feeling her knees growing weak from his intense stares, she sat on the edge of the table. "Why am I not surprised that you've read such a book?" "You haven't?" He moved with immense speed to stand in front of her once again. "You really should Precious. You might find you enjoy the idea of many of the things in this book. I'd happily help you act them out." "I'm sure you would." He placed his hands on the table on each side of her and leaned closer, his face inches from hers. "Tell me it doesn't excite you even a little. The idea of being my pet, doing as I ask and being rewarded for your obedience." "Not at all." She whispered. "Just imagine it, Sarah. Being naked before me, a soft fur lined collar caressing your neck. The leash resting in my hand as I run my fingers over your delicate skin." Jareth rubbed his nose against hers and closed his eyes as he imagined it. "Your soft breast exposed and there for the taking. I could rub them or suckle them, making you moan. Pulling your leash tight, I could have you bend over this table and use my riding crop on you. Slapping your firm little ass with it. Your cries only turning me on more and more and the sight of your rosy cheeks making me want you." Sarah tried not squirm as the images of what he was describing started to make her warm and wet. She gripped the side of the table with both hands. "You think I'd enjoy that?" Jareth opened his eyes and nodded. "Yes, I think there are many things I could do that you would enjoy dearest." He kissed and nibbled her jaw gently as one hand rubbed up her thigh. "I think what would excite you most of all though," he paused to kiss her softly. "Is the idea of doing all the things I do to you, to me." Sarah let herself be pushed back on the table as he climbed over her, his hands roaming her body as his lips moved over hers. She soon found her hands tangled in his already messy hair as she pulled him closer. Wrapping one leg around his lean frame, she moaned into his mouth as the kiss became more heated. One hand slid under her sweater and cupped her breast, squeezing it firmly. "Sarah." Her name was a purr from his lips. "Sarah." Each time he said it she felt herself let go more and more. "Sarah." His voice seemed to echo in her ears. "Miss Williams." "Miss Williams." She felt herself being shaken. "Miss Williams wake up." She sat up with a start and looked around frantically. She was breathing heavily and the memories of her dream still had her feeling rather warm. "What?" "You fell asleep, Miss Williams." A deep male voice said softly. Sarah looked over to see Mr. Kingsley standing by her, his hand on her shoulder. "I fell asleep?" "Yes," he chuckled. "You must have been having quite a dream. You were calling out for someone in your sleep." "What?" Sarah panicked. "Who?" "All I heard was Jar," Kingsley answered. "Someone important to you?" Sarah stood and turned her back to him. "Not particularly." "Do you remember your dream?" "I don't remember anything." She fibbed. "I should probably get going. I have class in the morning." She stated as she started to pack her things into her bag. In her rush, she knocked several books on the floor and her papers scattered everywhere. "Oh no." As she bent to pick them up, a hand appeared in front of her. She looked to see Mr. Kingsley offering his hand to her. "Here, allow me to get them. It's obvious you're flustered from the dream you don't remember." He smirked. "I wasn't going to ask you to share it with me." Sarah shook her head and laughed lightly. "Sorry, I just get lost in my dreams sometimes." She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. "Nothing wrong with that." He smiled. She watched as he bent to collect her things and she couldn't take her eyes off him. There was something almost graceful about the way he knelt with one foot resting under his bottom, the other bent at the knee. "I believe that dreams can show us our greatest desires, the things we would never admit that we truly want." Sarah bit her lip at the thought of her dreams showing her greatest desires. "God I hope not." She muttered. "What was that?" Kingsley asked as he looked up at her. "Oh, nothing." She shook her head and took the papers he offered her. Placing them in her back pack she stole another glance at the handsome librarian. It was odd seeing such a young man as a member of the school staff. Not that he was her age or anything. He appeared to be in his mid to late 30's, but he was the youngest faculty member she had seen since she'd been at the University. The small golden ring in his ear was even more out of place than he was. "I'm surprised they let you wear that." "What's that?" He asked as he stood, handing her the last of her papers. "Your earring. I figured they would be against a guy wearing a piercing." Sarah explained. "Figured they might be afraid your gay or something." He laughed and grinned from ear to ear. Sarah found herself smiling at his laugh. It filled her with a feeling of joy and calmness. "Oh, I don't think they worry about that. In fact, Mrs. White fears I may be trying to bed all the female students." "What?" She ducked her head blushing. "That seems a bit judgmental." "Yes it is, but sadly it's something I've come to expect from most of the staff here. I admit I am guilty of being a shameless flirt at times, so forgive me if I say something that makes you feel uncomfortable. I would never wish to do that." Kingsley said as he pushed the chair in for her. "Well, I can honestly say you've been a perfect gentleman to me. You even came to my rescue earlier." Sarah told him. "Glad to hear it milady." He bowed gracefully before her. Sarah chuckled at his antics and tossed her bag over her shoulder. "I'm glad you're going to be the new librarian. It'll be odd not seeing Mrs. White and though she's usually rude and nasty I have to admit I will miss her. But it will be nice to see a smiling face here." "I appreciate your words of welcome. I always loved books and being in the library always felt like home." Sarah nodded and headed towards the exit. "I should get going but I'll..." She stopped when she spotted a certain book on the shelf. "You'll what?" Kingsley asked as he watched her pull the book from the shelf. "Oh, I was going to say I'll be back tomorrow." He walked over and looked at the book she had grabbed. "Find something interesting?" "A...uh, a friend recommended this book to me." She said quietly. "Have you read it?" He looked at the cover. "The Story of O... No can't say that I have. What's it about?" "I uh don't really know honestly." She shook her head. "I guess I'll have to find out." "Well, I'll happily check it out to you, right after I call security." "Security?" Sarah looked at him dumbfounded. "It's late and I'm not letting you leave with out an escort. Especially after what happened earlier. I refuse to take a chance of you facing that hooligan on your way home." He explained. "Thanks. I appreciate that." Sarah followed him to the check out counter and after he called security, he scanned the book and checked it out to her. They chatted quietly until the security guard arrived to escort her to her dorm. "Thanks again Mr. Kingsley. I'll see you tomorrow." "My pleasure Miss Williams. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Enjoy the book." He smiled and waved to her as she left with her escort. Sitting in the golf cart, she waved one last time before being driven to her dorm. He waved until she was out of sight. "See you tomorrow, my pet." He grinned.

Stiles found himself sneaking into the Hale house, hoping nobody was there. He had Derek’s red book in his hand and all the answers he needed in his head. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see any of the pack knowing what he had to do. Of course, luck wasn’t on his side. The minute he opened the door using the spare key kept in the false bottom of a fake potted plant, his name was called from somewhere upstairs with a question tacked to it. “Yeah, sorry!” he called back, hoping Derek stayed upstairs. “Just returning that book.” He dashed to the den and put the book back on the shelf and then scooped up the other books he had taken down earlier and started putting them back where they belonged. It wasn’t that there was anything bad in them, but he just didn’t feel like sharing. Not when his answers meant him leaving. And he wasn’t sure anyone actually wanted that. “Hey,” Derek said, standing in the doorway, as Stiles shelved the last book. “You find what you needed?” Stiles gave him a tight smile. “I guess.” Derek leaned against the doorframe, his body deflating in a deep exhale. “I wanted to thank you,” he said, voice wavering just the slightest. Derek couldn’t quite meet his eye. “I don’t know how long I would have spent just ignoring that drawer. I’ve tried to leave all his things were he left them when I could.” He shook his head, biting at his lower lip in a nervous manner Stiles had never seen from him, either Derek, before. “It was,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “It was closure I didn’t realize I still needed.” His eyes seemed to glisten, not quite wet with tears. Stiles could only nod, unsure what to say. He hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Right,” he faltered, mind searching for words. “You’re different, you know,” Derek interjected quickly, standing straighter and catching Stiles’s eye. “Than him. There’s lots of similarities, obviously, but you are your own person.” Stiles huffed. “No kidding.” Derek shook his head. “No, I mean,” he ran a hand over his close trimmed beard and grimaced a bit. “I mean it’s not a bad thing. If you were exactly the same it would be,” Derek sneered his hands moving in a very Stiles-esque gesture. He was floundering for words. It was a little heartwarming to see Derek like that, obviously picking up slight aspects of Stiles… the other Stiles, in all the time they’ve spent together. “You’re your own person,” Derek eventually said. “You’re the same person but you’re also… your own person.” Stiles’s mouth twitched in a barely there smile. “You working today?” Derek shook his head. “You wanna get out of here?” he suggested. “Where?” Stiles shrugged. “Anywhere, man.” He took another good look at Derek, the way the man seemed unsure in his own body around Stiles, biting his lip, shoulders hunched and foot scuffing the floor. Stiles stood a little straighter and with a little more assertion said, “Someplace you didn’t used to go with him. Let’s not make me Martha, kay?” Derek stared at him for a bit, his mouth falling open slightly while looking Stiles over. “Was that a Doctor Who reference?” he asked, visibly straining his memory. Stiles barked in laughter. “Yeah man,” he grinned. “Let’s go. Your pick.” Derek ended up brining Stiles a town over to an old fashioned ice cream parlor. “It only opened two months ago,” Derek said when they walked in. “Cool,” he grinned, leading Derek to a booth with the plastic red seating and a wall length window. “Aw, man, this place is awesome. I’m gonna order a banana split and a milkshake because why the fuck not!?” “Also because you’re spending my money,” Derek said with a coy smirk. “I know your ways.” “You got me. Although I suggest we split the sundae because I might puke because if one thing’s true about a Stilinski is that they will continue eating desserts until it is all gone.” Derek agreed with a laugh. “I thought you took your mother’s name?” Both of them paused at that, Stiles’s face falling just the slightest. Not for long, he thought. He plastered on a grin and kicked Derek’s shin under the table. “Either way it’s my Polish blood, shut up.” A bubbly girl in a red and white striped dress and white apron came over and took their order, Derek only getting a soda because he claimed he was going to be eating more than half the banana split. Stiles just rolled his eyes and muttered “We’ll see about that.” “It’s good to see you like this,” Derek said after a moment. “Like what?” Derek looked down with a slight shake of his head. “I don’t know. Happy? When you were first here everything was so dark about you. You reeked of sad and upset. It’s still there, like it’s entrenched into your base scent, almost. But there’s no dark cloud in your eyes when you smile most of the time now.” Stiles sat back, the plastic squishing with that low squeaking sound as he moved. “Dad said I looked happy the other day,” he admitted. “It’s hard to believe.” “Why?” Stiles blinked, thinking about it. “Even when I was happy,” he started, parsing through his memories carefully, “I was always on edge. Distrusting, even of myself, unable to relax fully, preparing myself for whatever came next, because something always came next.” He picked up his spoon and tapped it lightly on the table, pushing his nervous energy into some idle rhythm. “For half my life I’ve been preparing for battle. And I’ve been losing people left and right. So even when I’m happy, I’m not.” Stiles tried to smile, but it fell flat. “But you guys don’t have that. I searched for every danger I knew of, and most of it is miles and miles and miles away.” “Why do you think that difference happened?” Derek asked as the waitress came over with their order. Stiles waited until she headed back, taking a long sip of his milkshake, before answering. “Lots of reasons,” he explained. “First was because you and… Derek and I didn’t become fast friends and he bit someone who then turned into a kanima, if you remember me explaining about that.” It was one of the things he had discussed with Isaac at the full moon barbeque. “Second, when we were fighting off the alpha pack and the darach, Jennifer took my dad. And Scott’s mom and Allison’s dad. For the final sacrifices.” He scooped up some banana with hot fudge and a bit of vanilla ice cream, savoring it before digging in his spoon again for his next bite. “And to find them, Allison, Scott, and I sacrificed ourselves. What Jennifer did awoke the nemeton, giving power back to it, but what we did made it a beacon again, not just for the supernatural, but for death. We had cheated it out of three lives, after all. It made Beacon Hills a dangerous place for a long time. Things have settled down, but…” he shrugged into a mouthful of sundae. “Let’s uh,” Stiles took another sip of milkshake, chocolate malt. “Let’s talk about something else.” “Yeah,” Derek agreed. “So, you went to grad school?” Stiles perked up at that. “Yeah! I studied classics and like magic. It was like Hogwarts but for adults.” They talked, Stiles rambling on and on about UCLA and his courses and his professors and his classmates. He talked about the criminology courses he had taken at USF and how grueling double majoring had been. Derek talked about why he got the pub and how the pack had gone all into helping him remodel and decorate. They talked until Stiles was bemoaning every bite he took because his stomach couldn’t handle more ice cream but he refused to stop. They talked until the sundae was nothing more than sticky soup. They talked about the good things in their lives, the challenges, the new aspects of each other they hadn’t known. Derek bumped shoulders with him as they left, heading towards the Camaro. Erica was out in the woods with Malia apparently and wouldn’t miss it. And it was actually Derek’s car, despite what Stiles teased him with. “Ugh,” Stiles groaned as he climbed into the passenger seat. “My stomach huuuuurrts.” Derek snorted. “You’re pathetic.” He reached over and shoved Stiles’s head affectionately before turning on the car. Stiles swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as he looked at Derek. He had been thinking a lot about Derek, both Derek’s, since he learned about their relationship in this world. That night he spent thinking over his every interaction with the grumpy werewolf made him see the potential between them. Seeing it had made all of this harder, knowing his Derek was in love with Braeden and this Derek was in love with someone who was almost him. But he went on, acting as normal as possible. But Derek, this Derek, just kept at it, becoming a friend, becoming someone new, someone with all that same potential but a fresh connection. So Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and quieted the sudden flutter in his chest, because he knew this wasn’t something he could keep. “Can you take me back to my dad’s?” he asked as they drove into town. He could see the way Derek’s forehead crinkled in a frown. It was small, like disappointment. “What about your bike?” Stiles shrugged and looked back out the window at the passing trees. “I’ll pick it up later.” If Derek picked up on the lie, he didn’t say. “We should do this again sometime,” Derek offered as he pulled into the Stilinski driveway. “Maybe with less ice cream. But we could find things to do.” Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek as he climbed out of the passenger seat. He leaned back into the car, taking in Derek’s appearance. The man seemed stoic yet soft, like a hard line made in water color. Hopeful. “Sounds like fun,” he said truthfully, unable to say yes. “Bye, Derek.” “Bye,” Derek said, holding his breath for half a second, the moment dragging out until he said under his breath, “Nik.” Derek looked straight ahead with a frown as Stiles shut the door. He watched Derek pull out of the drive before going inside. Nik was a wall between them, a boundary they couldn’t dare to cross, no matter how close their toes were. It was just as well. Stiles didn’t know if he could convince himself out of staying if they somehow managed to cross that line. Maybe one day, he pondered, if there was no way to get back, tearing down that wall, crossing that line, would be like floating or falling in slow motion: imperceptibly easy. Stiles shook the thought from his head and went about tiding up his things. He did a load of laundry and started making a dinner for when his dad got home that wasn’t from the freezer. It was the only way he really knew of how to say goodbye. Somewhere between folding socks and the smell of chicken simmering in a crock pot, Stiles had the profound notion that maybe he was never supposed to fix this world. Maybe this world was supposed to fix him. It was a stray thought that flew away with a fresh whiff of laundry detergent and Stiles spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and watching a marathon of a random season of Face Off. He wondered at some of their ideas, that maybe the designers were part of the supernatural. He sighed into his beer and waited for his dad to come home for one last time. He barely slept that night. It was midday when Stiles found himself out in the woods again. Stiles sat on top of the nemeton, leaning back on his hands. It was simple, really. The sun hit his face and he let the warmth soak in. The stump beneath him still felt cool to the touch, the uneven grain of where it had been cut down teaming with anticipation. Just under the surface the magic was pooling, readying itself for new life. The rumble of Derek’s motorcycle came on suddenly in the stillness, growing close at an almost too fast speed. Stiles sighed. He half expected this to happen.     Derek turned into the clearing, his breaks tearing up the forest floor. He cut the engine and kicked the stand with such force Stiles worried he might break the thing. “Seriously, Stiles!” “What happened to Nik?” he asked. “He’s apparently,” Derek snapped, “leaving without saying anything.” Stiles looked away, turning his face to the sky. “Really mature. What the hell?” “How did you find out?” Stiles asked, although he already knew the answer. “Your dad called me. Said you gave him a goodbye this morning and wanted to make sure I got the chance, too.” Stiles’s fingers pulled at the frayed wood of the stump absently. “What do you want me to say? Sorry you had to get to know me before I left?” Derek huffed, dropping his helmet and walking over. His shins hit the bark of the nemeton and Stiles looked back down. He felt like a child being scolded. “All I want to know is why you couldn’t have bothered saying goodbye to all of us.” Stiles went back to picking at the tree stump. “I didn’t want to give myself a reason to stay.” He knew if he had said goodbye, Allison’s tears, Erica’s fallen face, Boyd’s sad smile and too straight posture, Isaac’s gaze avoiding him, Malia’s hurt confusion, Derek… just Derek – he wouldn’t have been able to turn back. But he needed to do this. “You’re allowed to stay, you know,” Derek said reaching a hand out. Stiles pulled back slightly and tried to ignore the hurt look on Derek’s face. “We all… We’re happy you’re here. You don’t have to go.” Stiles shook his head. “No, I do. I have to do this, Derek. I got brought to this place because the magic brought me to a place I could help it.” “What’s that mean?” Stiles looked around the clearing, his eyes drawn to the differences he could feel more than see. “The magic in this place is dying, Derek. And I can heal it.” Derek’s concerned face at the corner of his eye stole his attention. Stiles couldn’t help but stare him down as he told him a past this Derek never had to learn. “This tree used to be strong and this town thrived. But then a kitsune trapped a demon under the roots of the nemeton and for generations it stole the natural power of this spot, slowly seeping it away until the tree had to be cut down.” “So?” Derek asked, his face stern and voice clipped. “So it’s worse here. Jennifer succeeded in my time. She made all her sacrifices, and then she was killed at the nemeton so all that power she gained went right back into the land and things started to grow again.” It had become a beacon for dark and evil only because Stiles, Scott, and Allison had tampered with the blood magic when they substituted themselves for their parents and then stole back their lives.  “But that never happened here. And the nogitsune spent even more time draining what power was left in this tree. It’s on its last strings and dead magic will kill this town.” Derek didn’t seem to get it, or believe him, or something. His arms were crossed and he looked at Stiles like he hadn’t just told him that this place was dying. Stiles sighed and ran a tired hand over his eyes. “You can’t see it because you’ve all been here, but this entire town is fading away. You’re all… happy, but there are more abandoned store fronts, more houses for sale. People are leaving and they don’t know why. And the pack, the pack would try too hard to hold on but the place will just crumble between your fingers. I like you all. I can’t just let that happen.” “Then why can’t you fix it without leaving?” Derek demanded, still angry. Stiles gave Derek a weak smile. “There’s only two ways to restore magic to a place like this. I can either go on a killing spree like Jennifer, or I can be selfless and sacrifice myself.” At Derek’s panicked face, Stiles rushed to explain. “I don’t think it will kill me. It should just take my magic, but it will bring me back.” Derek scrutinized him, no doubt trying to suss out a lie. “How can you be sure?” Stiles ran his hand along the tree rings, watching his fingers trace the varying shades. “The nemeton, the rings of the tree,” he explained. “It’s a naturally occurring ring full of magic. It can get me home, if it weren’t almost dead. So if I pour my magic into it, the fairy ring will do the rest, whether I want it to or not.” It was ‘not’, he thought, locking eyes with Derek. He didn’t want to go. But he had to. He knew it. “I’m sorry,” Stiles said, his voice shaky with a sudden rush of feeling. “I feel like I just got to know you.” Time felt like a non-entity in that moment, as if the world had stilled and the wind had held its breath. There was a rustle of leaves as nearby trees stretched their branches and color became almost too saturated. “I loved Stiles,” Derek blurted, his voice filling the clearing with nothing but a whisper. “I will always love Stiles. But it’s like your dad said. You may not be him but you’re still his son.” Derek shifted the weight on his feet as if he wanted to move forward, to run, but he had nowhere forward to go. “Well I love Stiles,” he howled, a lamentation of something past and a prayer for something new. “And I love any version of Stiles. And as much as I’ve tried to deny it, you are Stiles.” Derek stepped back, blinking away tears. A wetness dropped onto the corner of his bottom lip and Stiles was surprised to find he was crying too. “What hurt,” Derek continued, “what really hurt, was that when I found you in the woods, I could tell the moment you looked at me, you didn’t love me back.” Stiles didn’t know when he had gotten so attached to this man, but he had. They were something new and something good. They were all the potential he ignored in his own time. “You’ll never be him, but you’re you and I love you.” Derek’s words rang clear and Stiles wanted nothing more than to echo them back. “I could,” he vowed, “I really could.”   “I have to go,” Stiles whimpered. “I have to, you know I do.” He was a blubbering mess, his voice dying out in his throat. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to promise that it would all be okay, to assure him that he’d be fine, that they’d both be fine. He wanted to tell Derek he had given Stiles hope, that maybe Stiles could find happiness again. Maybe even love. He wanted to beg forgiveness for leaving and for making Derek lose him twice. He wanted to ask Derek to take care of his father and to tell the others why he had to leave. He wanted to do so many things. But since before Derek arrived in the clearing with the nemeton, Stiles had been pushing his spark out of his body and into the roots striving for life. And he was weak now. He could feel the magic twisting out of him, tugging at the bite on his shoulder and ripping at the darkness around his heart. It was eager now, to leave him, to feed this new host and pump through the veins of the earth rather than just the veins of a boy. He wanted to say so much, but Derek had come only just in time for Stiles to say, “Goodbye.” . . . The thing about dying is that it consumes the whole of you. Even when a body is left behind to burry, the person is gone. Not lost, not changed, but gone, left with nothing but a memory in other people’s hearts. Whiteness. No air in the lungs yet still breathing. In and out, in and in and out. Breathing in moments, colors, the scent of fresh rain and the tingle of chapped lips after a kiss. Stiles took a deep breath and everything had stopped. Then everything went black. With a great wheezing gasp Stiles flailed his arms wildly, seeking purchase in the outskirts of his blurred vision. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t breathe. In in in, rawness in the throat as air forced it’s way to the lungs. Blinking rapidly to clear the dark spots floating in his line of sight, Stiles felt dirt under his nails, under his palms, under his very skin itself. He pulled at something like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground, and the only thing to pull himself out of it. He was too heavy and too light all at once and wasn’t entirely sure he was holding onto anything. And then Stiles woke up crying and empty, hollowed out deeper than he had the first time. The world was no longer spinning and no longer still, but moving exactly as it was supposed to. The wind blew softly through the dense canopy. Sunlight shined through the green leaves, a spot catching in his eye and making him squint. Birds chirped. The wildlife teemed around him. Twigs and small pebbles dug into his hands and a tree branch sat uncomfortably underneath his back. Stiles sat up slowly, reorienting himself as the rush of blood caught him off guard. He blinked the dizziness away and tried to settle the queasiness of his stomach. “Stiles?” Stiles bolted upright, turning at the call of his name. His heart beat a rapid staccato in his chest. In a sick parallel, it was Derek. He couldn’t feel the thrum of wolf underneath his skin and Stiles knew it had worked. “What are you doing out here?” Derek called as he walked closer. “When’d you get back into town?” “Um,” Stiles cleared his throat. “Just today,” he answered, ignoring the first question. Stiles got to his feet and wiped at his face, hoping Derek wouldn’t comment on it. Stiles looked around him. He knew this cluster of trees. It wasn’t far from the nemeton. He wondered if their worlds were just the slightest bit off axis to each other. He turned back to Derek, brushing himself off. “How’ve you been? All good?” “Yeah…” Derek said with a frown. “I’m fine. Are you okay? Because you don’t look good.” Stiles tried to shake off the memory of another Derek. “Yeah, fine. And Braeden?” “On a job,” he said, giving Stiles a calculated look. He tried his best to not show how much it stung that everything had gone back to normal. Ignoring Derek’s looks, Stiles dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “God damnit!” he cursed. It was broken. “Seriously?” Dimensional travel, not good for electronics. Noted. “Um,” Stiles cleared his throat again, “I don’t suppose you could give me a ride?” Derek quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry, I was out for my run. The car’s still at the loft.” “You would run for the hell of it,” Stiles scoffed. “Can you at least lead me back to civilization?” Derek nodded and they began their way out of the woods. “You want to tell me what happened?” Derek asked after a while in silence. “Not really.” “Is it something that could potentially be a threat and the pack needs to know about?” he asked carefully. Stiles shook his head. “Okay,” Derek said, letting it drop although it was clear he wanted to know more. They reached a path and Derek kept walking with him until they reached the main road, and even further until they were in a place with sidewalks. “You good from here?” “Yeah, thanks.” They both hesitated for a moment. Derek reached over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder as a parting gesture and then walked away.   Stiles stopped off at the diner for a late lunch, his cards valid again. There were a few people at the counter and the same young waitress who had served him and Allison and Erica seated him with a smile. He ate in silence, no one to talk to, overhearing the chatter of petulant teens enjoying the first days of summer and exasperated parents with their children. Still, everything felt too quiet. He paid his bill and walked home, the food settling in his stomach. His house, his dad’s house, felt like a greyer place than he had lived the past few weeks. There was a layer of dust on all the surfaces, boxes were half packed in the living room, and everything felt lonely. His backpack was still sitting on the kitchen table. He pulled out the chair, the metal bottom scraping against the linoleum, and dropped into the seat. With a heavy sigh he pulled his bag over and searched through the contents, reminding himself of the where he had left off in this life. There was his Master’s diploma, a lunch box filled with sundry magical items and ingredients, and a binder with the information he had about selling the house. His computer was upstairs in his room with his haphazardly unpacked suitcase. Stiles sent an email to his relator saying his phone was broken but he was back in town and could be ready to finish up the paperwork. The Jeep was still sitting in the garage. He had been smart enough to take a taxi to The Jungle because he knew he planned on getting shitfaced. He took the car out and headed to the florist, picking up two small bouquets, then drove himself to the cemetery. It felt different here, he realized. He couldn’t explain it, but it was. All the ghosts where they’re supposed to be. Stiles found his parent’s graves easily, placing the flowers on top of each. He sat there for a while, unable to say anything. Eventually it grew dark, and Stiles went home. The next day he met with his relator and signed some papers and scheduled for movers to come help him pack. He spent most of his time rubbing his temples and praying he didn’t develop a migraine from it all. The next day he drove to the ice cream parlor and sat in his car, staring at the smiling customers for almost an hour before driving home. He spent the rest of the day looking up places to go far, far from Beacon Hills. He spent hours browsing the internet in his boxers in front of the television eating cheese puffs. Although he kept looking, it didn’t take him long to realize that the place he really wanted to be was the town he was in, but not this town. The next day he went to Deaton’s. “Here,” he said, handing over the lunch box of ingredients. “Figured you could use these.” Deaton opened the box, skimming his fingers over its contents. He gave Stiles a look which Stiles just shrugged at. “I lost my magic.” “How?” Deaton asked, reasonably concerned. “I gave it away.” He told Deaton the basics of what had happened to him, realizing halfway through that any missing persons recently were probably due to fairies and Deaton should tell Scott. “Scratch that,” Stiles said. “I’ll tell Scott.” Stiles headed out to leave, pushing the door open and hearing the jingle, when Deaton stopped him, calling out his name. Deaton crossed his arms behind the counter, his eyes still calculating, looking Stiles over like a mystery he didn’t know could happen. “Do you want me to look into finding a way to get your spark back?” Stiles thought about it, letting the fresh air tingle against his skin, the sun soaking into him. He couldn’t feel the earth the way he used to. He lost his connection to the power behind refracted sunlight and rich soil and the air around him. It was no longer something living he could feel as if it were his own breath. The world was just the world, something distant. “I’m not sure,” he murmured before giving Deaton one last nod and leaving. Stiles drove out to Scott’s house. He had moved out of his mom’s about four years back, pooling money with his pack to buy a two story with plenty of room in one of the newer housing developments. The neighborhood was full of cookie cutter houses that you can only tell apart by lawn ornaments and maybe a fresh paint on the shutters. A lot of the pack still had their own homes, but Malia lived there since she couldn’t stand her dad anymore, and Liam, because he had felt it was time to “be on his own” and move out of his parent’s place. But all of the pack crashed there from time to time, as a safe haven or just a place to hang out. Stiles hadn’t been there in years. Not since he cursed Scott out after his dad died. He hadn’t really been part of the pack before that, even, drifting away and losing friendships.   Scott was outside by the time Stiles pulled up into the driveway. His floppy hair and crooked jaw accenting his look of surprise. He didn’t seem upset, though. Stiles cut the engine and hopped out, closing the door awkwardly behind him as he thought about how to start this, what to say. “Hey, man,” Scott said tentatively. “Hey,” Stiles replied, pushing his lips together in an almost smile. Stiles cleared his throat and took a few steps towards the house. “You mind if I talk to you for a bit?” Scott shook his head, “No, no, nah man. Come in.” He rushed up the front steps and opened the door for Stiles, waving him in. They took seats in the living room, both awkwardly shifting their weight. “I saw the For Sale sign outside your house,” Scott said. Stiles nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I can’t stay here.” “I get that.” Stiles let out a deep breath and shook his head. He was better than this. “Uh, I don’t know if there has been any indication of something weird going on, but you should talk to Parrish if there have been any strange disappearances lately. It’s almost certainly fairies.” “What?” Scott asked, jerking straight. “Seriously? Fairies?” Stiles rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but laugh a bit at Scott. He would always be the same, even as they changed. “Yeah, dude. Fairies. It’s a long story, how I figured it out.” “Okay,” Scott said, scratching at the side of his face. “I’ll talk to Parrish about it, keep a look out. Thanks.” “Yeah.” “Was that all… or?” Scott prompted. Stiles ran a hand over his eyes. He felt so tired. Always tired. “No,” he said, trying to perk himself up. He sat a bit straighter, leaned forward. He really looked at Scott, at the man he’d become. “No. I wanted… I needed to tell you I don’t blame you. Not anymore.” Stiles cleared his throat again. It was hard thinking about his dad. Not the one he had spent a month with, but the one he had lost years ago. “You were always supposed to be the one saving people, you took up that mantle, but so had I, and I was the one who left Beacon Hills. So when my dad died, and you were here and I wasn’t, I blamed myself as much as you but it was so much easier just to be angry and to hate and to say it was your fault. And I’m sorry.” He had spent too much time mourning the loss of his friend in that other world to not even try to make things a bit better in this one. “Stiles…” Scott started, his name dangling in the space between them. Stiles shrugged. “I don’t think we’ll ever be friends again, not really. Not the way we were in high school. We’ve both changed too much.” He made sure his gaze was steady with Scott’s. “But you’ll always be my brother.” Scott stood, reaching a hand out to Stiles. He took it and let Scott pull him to his feet and into and tight hug. “Yeah man,” Scott said. “Always.” “I should go,” Stiles said, pulling out of the hug. “You know, before Malia comes home and finds me.” Scott winced a bit exaggeratedly. “Yeah, that sounds like a smart plan.” Scott followed him outside to his car. “Hey,” he called, catching Stiles’s attention. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” Stiles gave a weak smile. “Yeah.” The next day Stiles packed up and left town.

“Alright, Sans, you push the cart.” “What? I thought I was just here cause you were bonely.” He teased you, hands still shoved in his pockets. You rolled your eyes at your skeleton boyfriend and unfolded the list you had brought. It was grocery shopping day and this time, Sans decided to tag along. It was a good thing he was cute, because he sure as heck wasn’t that useful if he refused to do anything. “Yeah, well you’re here for both things now.” You could win this game, you were sure of that. The both of you had a stare off, with Sans smirking, and you raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Besides, I have to look at the list.” “I’ll hold the list.” He extended out a hand, but you didn’t budge. “Oh no. No way.” You were laughing as you denied him. “And why not?” “Cause you’ll put something weird down that we don’t need. Like LAST time.” Sans looked uneasy at your accusation, but grinned all the same. “How was I supposed to know we didn’t have a dog?” With another roll of the eyes and a snort, you handed the list to him and got a cart. With no further arguing, you went inside the store with the skeleton close beside you. It was a Thursday afternoon, so the aisles were rather clear of people. “Alright, let’s go aisle by aisle. Just makes it easier.” You offered up, immediately heading left towards the bread. Sans hummed in agreement, shuffling to be a bit closer to you. The bonehead was always more affectionate than he led on to be and you always enjoyed his closeness. As you arrived to the bread, you looked around for your favorite brand, but it seemed it was nowhere in sight. You crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head as your eyes scanned the variety in front of you. Sans walked up behind you and wrapped an arm lazily around you. “Not finding it, babe?” He asked you simply. You sighed with disappointment. “Yeah… it looks like they might have reorganized.” You suggested. Sans began to look, too, until he suddenly chuckled and pointed up at the very highest shelf. You squinted your eyes and sure enough, there it was. Higher than seven feet, that was for sure. “Nice find. So, uh… how do I get it?” You began to reach up on your tippy toes, but still you couldn’t make it. “Here. I’ll give you a… lift.” Sans’ left eye glowed and all of a sudden, you were raised up off the ground enough that you could grab the bread. With a decisive grasp, you secured the goods. “Okay you can, uh… let me down now.” At your words, Sans altogether stopped holding you up and you fell only a foot, but still somehow managed to be caught in the skeleton’s arms. “I see you’re not done falling for me yet, huh?” Sans was smirking, all too proud of his pun. You snorted again, nuzzling his face. “Dork. Don’t drop me like that ever again, though.” “Hey, I’ll always be here to catch you.” Your stomach flopped slightly and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Finally, Sans let you down and you tucked the bread away into the cart. The next few items went without incident, aside from Sans trying to buy more hotdogs, since you already had 3 packages at home. Or in his words ‘only’ had 3 packages at home. Still, you managed to pull him away on to the next thing. At some point in the snack aisle, you went to look at pretzels when Sans got out of sight. After deciding on the mini pretzel sticks, you turned to return to the cart. Of course it was never that simple. “Sans, you can’t just eat that!” You exclaimed as you noticed he was snacking on some cheetos in the middle of the store. He looked at you with dull confusion. “Whaddya mean?” He prompted, cheese dust flying from his face. Attractive. “I mean you have to pay for it!” You elaborated. “I’m going to.” “No, you pay for it before you eat it.” You insisted with a bewildered expression. It was apparent that Sans still had a lot to learn about human rules and expectations. “Why? Sounds dumb.” You groaned at his response and gave up, seeing as he had already finished half the bag. At least he understood he had to pay, so that was something. Still, he could be rather difficult on occasion. “What’s next?” You asked, defeated. Sans frowned, catching up with you as you headed out of the aisle. “Sorry… I didn’t know.” He apologized in a quiet voice, placing his right hand over yours on the handle of the cart. You paused for a moment with a sigh. “It’s fine. I forget how new to the surface you are sometimes.” You adjusted your hand so that your fingers were then intertwined. “I do appreciate that you came with me today.” Your voice was now as small as his had been. “It was either this or watching Papyrus and Undyne play Monopoly.” He tried to brush off the sentiment, but you knew he was doing it for you, not avoid other things. You leaned forward and kissed the top of his head before starting off again towards the next thing on your list. It was at least a solid five minutes before the next incident. As you picked out the right size of tortilla for Taco Tuesday, you suddenly heard your name being called. You turned around to see an empty cart (Sans must have snatched it up from outside) zooming by at an unreasonable speed with the skeleton in question hanging off the back. There was a crash you couldn’t see, but certainly heard. This was why you didn’t bring him shopping. He was actually pretty close to Papyrus in childishness levels, but only when his brother wasn’t around. And only when he was bored. You reluctantly turned around the corner to find your significant other on the ground with the fallen over cart and about fifty cans rolling around. It was like something out of a cartoon and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. Sans rubbed at his head and looked up at you with a big ol grin. He always liked to make you laugh. Walking over, you extended your hand and helped him up. “Alright, nerd, you’re officially not allowed in stores anymore. Now help me clean this up.” “I am not a nerd. That’s you.” With a snap of his fingers, Sans magically set all of the cans back up in a somewhat neat stack. He never did anything perfect. Still, it was better than leaving it for some poor worker to have to clean up. “Come on, nerd.” You shook your head and returned to the mission at hand. Of course that meant you only had a few things left on the list. They were going to take the longest, however. As soon as you had entered the condiment aisle, Sans was gone from your side, staring intensely at his drink of choice: ketchup. That was where the catch (pun intended) came in. “You still haven’t like, gotten a favorite brand yet?” You asked, standing behind the kneeling skeleton. “Clearly you have no taste buds, dear. Each ketchup is different and some meals call for a specific kind.” He waggled a finger at you. If he had hair, you would have ruffled it. But he didn’t since he was a skeleton and all. Obviously. You watched as he would pick up a bottle, turn it around to read the ingredients and nutrition facts, then shake it a little bit before setting it back down. Every time he reached for a new bottle, you grew a little more hopeful that it’d be done and over with. Alas, though, he took his sweet time. “Sans, I’m sure whatever you got last time will work just fine.” “Just lemme… lemme look a little more.” He picked up another bottle and squinted at it in concentration. “Nah.” And returned it to the shelf. You sighed, knowing he had the list and you couldn’t recall what you needed half the time. So instead, you had to wait. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sans chose his ketchup of choice and gently set it down in the cart. You shook your head and kissed his forehead before heading off to the next obstacle. Spaghetti. Sans and Papyrus were obviously very close, so even with Sans’ laziness taken into account, he still put just as much effort into choosing the right noodles as he did with his ketchup. “Sooo… what are we looking at?” You asked gripping Sans’ hand in your own. “Paps said he liked the length and thickness… but not the taste.” Sans explained with a thoughtful gaze. “So, different brand? Same noodle style?” “Yup.” He casually reached forward, examining the kind you had previously purchased for Papyrus. Again, Sans looked at the ingredients of each and every box, carefully committing them to memory. When he came to the last one, however, it seemed he forgot what he was doing and muttered an apology as he repeated the motions all over again. It was sweet to see how much work he could manage for something that made his brother happy, but at the same time, there was only so many social media sites to look at while you waited. Eventually, as with anything, the search came to an end and Sans ended up purchasing three different type ‘just to be sure’. You had a feeling Papyrus would hate them all, but not have the heart to say it outright. You’d one day order him that new pasta maker he wanted so badly. With everything shoved in your cart (including that half-eaten bag of cheetos) you made your way to the cash register. Of course, there was only one non-express lane open and it was moving at a snail’s pace. So you had to stand around and wait some more with Sans, who was lazily scanning the magazines. “Who cares how much weight they lost? You humans sure are weird, obsessing over these celebrities.” “Yeah? And monsters don’t completely obsess over Metatton?” You brought up with a satisfied smirk. “Well I didn’t.” “Uh-huh. Sure. Gotcha. Understood.” “Nerd,” He always said it with such overwhelming affection that it warmed your heart to its core. “You use way too many affirmatives.” “Come on, we’re next, cute stuff.” You pushed the cart forward and carefully emptied its contents on the conveyor belt. As expected, it went slow as all hell, taking another fifteen minutes before you managed to even pay. And, also as expected, the half eaten cheetos earned you an odd look from the cashier. You simply ignored it however, but wanted to snicker. After all of the groceries were bagged and shoved in your car, you and Sans began the drive home. “Like I said, you’re not allowed to come shopping in more.” You insisted, but with a teasing tone to it. Sans ‘tsked’ you with a shake of the head. “That’s not very nice of you to say, sweetheart. You’re gonna break my heart, here.” “Sorry, but it’s the truth. Even Papyrus doesn’t cause this much trouble.” “Oooh. Ouch. Low blow. You’re getting too real for these old bones.” Sans pretended to be hurt, even adding fake coughing for affect. “Dork.” “Nerd.” He shot back immediately. “But you love me.” “Yeah, yeah. Guess I do.” As you pulled into the driveway and went to remove the bags from the back of the car, you made quite the realization. With a heavy sigh, you gently pushed aside a few bags and noted something that was, again, definitely not on your grocery list. “Sans! We don’t have a dog!!! Stop buying dog food!” At that rate, you probably should’ve bought the dog, just to get rid of all the bags you had acquired over the trips. But Sans wouldn’t be trusted with it.

 It took Stiles the remainder of the day to orchestrate and plot out his foolproof plan. He pulled out his spiral bound notebook and checked off each item that he had listed. He entitled the plan The Art of Being Human. He smiled at his final item and carefully deposited the notebook into his messenger bag and headed into Deaton’s office. Sunday morning he woke, showered and dressed. The text he sent to Isaac was returned with a confirmation. “It’s a go!” The jeep was loaded with groceries and his music was blaring as he bumped his way through the wooded road up to Derek’s house. Even the house looked better, almost happier. New wood boards and shingles shone in the early morning light. The faint pink glow of dawn was just touching over the top of the house, giving it a warm brighter feel. Stiles took that as an omen of good luck. He grabbed the bags he needed and skipped trying the front door…Which Derek always locked, which made Stiles smile…because the entire side and back was only covered by plastic that was easily moved. Once he got his bearings he made his way to the kitchen. The dingy green table cloth he had unearthed was still on the table. Stiles stopped to smile at that. Another good sign. Stiles deposited the bags and pulled out the items he needed. He carried them out to the grill and began cooking. While the food was heating up, he went back inside to plug in his laptop. He hit the playlist that he had made for Derek and got down to work cleaning up the kitchen. Once he felt that the danger of Salmonella was past, he began cutting up the fruit he had brought and mixing the pancake batter. “Something smells good enough to eat…Oh and you’re making food too?” Peter said from the doorway. “Haha Old Creepy. It’s not for you…” Stiles said turning around giving him the stink eye. “Any of it.” Peter smirked and shrugged. “ Why are you here again? Cooking? Again? I guess you think the way to a man’s heart is his stomach?” Stiles put down the spoon and got out the oil for the pan. He looked at Peter but didn’t say anything. “You have a little crush on my nephew? I get it…Its cute…But he’s not even here. He and Isaac went out…Isaac said he picked up the scent of some Omegas.” Peter moved closer and picked up a strawberry which he bit into looking up at Stiles. “You do smell…Interesting today.” He leaned in slightly. Stiles poured the batter onto the skillet. “Almost…intoxicating.” “I’m feeling good.” Stiles smiled at him. “Happy.” “Not one drop of fear on you. Confident…Kind of sexy Stiles. Usually you smell of a hundred different things. Today…” Peter leaned in smiling. “You really do love him? Don’t you?” He looked almost surprised at the thought. Stiles just kept flipping the pancakes and stacking them. He turned to Peter, “If I give you a plate will you go away? I have some sausage outside and bacon…” Peter chuckled. “Oh. No I don’t want to miss this show.” Stiles stopped and turned to him. “I can make you go.” Peter laughed in his face. “You?! Make me go?” He stepped up against Stiles pressing his chest against him. “You know this new found insanity on your part is kind of a turn on…I’m not usually interested in young men…but this new you… is quite intriguing.” Stiles put both hands on his shoulders and leaned in slowly, Peter blinked at him in surprise. “I told you.” Stiles whispered into his ear. “It’s not for you.” Peter was enjoying the thrill of the chase. He smirked and raised his eyebrow. “And how would a little weakling like you be able to stop me?” Stiles pulled his shoulders back and smiled. He closed his eyes and raised his hand and suddenly Peter found himself skidding ass backwards across the kitchen floor. His eyes flashed and his fangs bared. “How the hell?! Did you. Just do that?” he grunted. Stiles stepped towards him again, and like an invisible hand was pushing him Peter took another step back. Stiles gave him a sly smile and wink. “I have my secrets…Remember. Now!” Stiles clapped his hands. “You want me to make you a plate before you skiddaddle or what?” Peter hung his head and laughed. “Ok. Fine. But can I have strawberries in my pancakes?” Peter looked at him hopefully. Stiles shook his head but chuckled. “Ok.”   Creeping through the burnt out house Stiles found Derek’s room. It was crowded with many of the salvaged pieces of furniture that had survived the fire. Stiles peeked under the plastic covers to look at them. Elegant and comfy looking chairs, bookcases crammed with books and dressers still full of his families clothing. Stiles saw the worn out mattress on the floor that didn’t even have a pillow. He dragged up the rest of the bags he had brought and began tackling the room. When he had finished Derek’s bed looked slightly more comfortable. Two big feather pillows and a blanket from Stiles house propped on it. Stiles folded the pile of black tee shirts and wife beaters that seemed to multiply in every corner. A garbage bag next to the bed was filled with assorted jeans. “No underwear?” Stiles realized. He smirked. “Commando? Good to know.” His phone vibrated twice. Isaac’s signal. It was time to get the last step finished. He pulled the small bag out of his jacket and began. When he was finished he brushed off his hands and made his way downstairs. He pulled out the steaming plate of food and set the table, poured the reheated Starbucks and the OJ and sat back bracing himself.   Derek groaned slightly when he saw Stiles jeep. He turned an accusing eye at Isaac, who threw his hands up in surrender. “It wasn’t my idea…But since he’s here…You should just talk.” Isaac looked down at his hands. Derek clenched his jaw and nodded slowly. The sweet scent of pancakes and the crispy smell of bacon made both werewolves mouths water as soon as they entered the house. “Oh, my god…It smells so good!” Isaac almost sprinted into the kitchen. Stiles was sitting on the counter, looked up and smiled at them. “Hey. Hope you guys are hungry. I made a lot!” Isaac’s eyes went wide looking at the table. “This is awesome.” He stopped and looked at Derek as if waiting for permission to dive in face first. Derek nodded slightly at him, and it was like a puppy being released from a leash, Isaac bound over to grab a plate and began shoveling the food in faster than he could even put it on the plate. “Come on Derek. Sit. Eat. Here I’ll get you a plate.” Stiles got up and began loading up a plate for him. Derek kept his eyes on Stiles’ every move. He placed the plate in front of Derek and handed him the syrup. “It’s the best kind. Real maple syrup.” He sat down and smiled at Derek. Derek looked down at his plate, then back at Stiles. “You aren’t eating?” He asked softly. Stiles smiled again. “Nah. Tummy’s still not up to snuff. Go ahead. Eat!” he gestured at the plate. Derek began and didn’t stop until the plate was wiped clean. Isaac was busy licking his plate. ‘’’Sthere anymore?” He asked his eyes hopeful. Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Nope. Going have to adjust my mom’s recipe for feeding hungry Werewolves.” “Ok. Then.” Isaac got up. “I’m going to go see what Scott’s up to.” “You’re grounded! Remember!” Derek said clearing the table and putting the dishes into the sink. “Aw! Come on!” Isaac groaned. “Just for like an hour?” Derek looked down at his feet and gave a small nod. “Just an hour…We need to fix the roof today…before it rains again.” Isaac hopped excitedly from foot to foot. “Ok. I will… I promise. Thanks Derek. Thanks Stiles the food was off the chart!” After he left Derek turned back to the sink and began washing the dishes. Stiles got up to stand next to him. “You got water? That’s great. It’s really coming together.” He folded his arms and leaned against the counter looking at Derek. “Are you even going to look at me?” he smiled. He saw Derek stiffen slightly, his shoulders drawn back. Derek looked at him swiftly sideways then back at the sudsy water. “Why are you here, Stiles. I thought I told you the other night…” Stiles interrupted him and grabbed a dish to dry. “I know…Mistake…Blah,blah,blah.” Stiles kept drying the plates as soon as Derek finished them. Derek chuckled slightly. “So. Again.Why?” Derek turned to face him drying his hands slowly. “Because we need to talk about this.” Derek turned away slightly but Stiles hands pulled him back. “Look at me Derek.” Derek’s eyes met his. “It’s not just going away…I’m not going away. You…You are too important to me just to…Stop. And if it’s just as friends…then…” Derek blinked at him in surprise. “I’m not sure I can do that, Stiles. I think it’s just best that we…” Derek turned and walked away. Stiles stumbled after him. “What are you doing?” Stiles asked. “Seeing you out.” Derek opened the door and gestured. “Go home Stiles. Just forget about me…about all this…We were just…caught up in a moment…When you find someone else…you’ll see. It’s for the best.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh. So you know what’s best for me? Really?” Derek bristled. “Well I know what’s best for me Stiles. And it isn’t you!” Stiles smirked. “You know that doesn’t work on me…That whole reversed psychology bull. You want me to leave?” Derek made a “Duh” face at him and pointed again at the opened door. “Yes. Now!” Stiles smirked. “You’ll have to catch me first!” And then bolted up the stairs into Derek’s room, before Derek even realized what he was doing. Stiles laughed from upstairs. “Cripes! You’re slow. I thought you’d be here before me!” He called out from the room. “Dammit Stiles!” Derek pounded and leaped up the stairs after him flinging open the door. “Get the…What the hell did you do to my room!” His mouth was hanging open. Stiles was sitting on one of the uncovered chairs opening up his laptop. “It looked like a freaking haunted house in here! I just uncovered some stuff…Folded your shirts…Made the…I guess it’s your bed.” Stiles smiled at him. “Stop smiling at me you idiot and get the hell out.” Derek stood feet planted firmly. “And take this…and this …” He grabbed a small vase filled with sage and Artemisia and the two pillows. He flung the pillows at Stiles, who deflected them onto the floor. Stiles put down his computer and gathered up the pillows and placed them deliberately on the bed. He turned to Derek and pointed. “Those are from my garden…The gardens you planted for me.” Derek looked down at the greens and huffed out his breath then looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to hurt you Stiles…But I will carry you out if I have too!” He snarled. “Nope. We are not going anywhere.” Stiles replied calmly. Derek smirked. “And how are you planning on doing that Stiles?” Stiles closed his eyes and raised his hands. “Imagination is more important than knowledge…But having the knowledge doesn’t hurt.” “Wha…What the hell?” Derek looked around the room a slight panic in his eyes. “What did you just do?!” “Sealed you in…Mountain ash ring…” Stiles gestured. “All around the room. I have some in my pocket too. Freaked the shit out of Peter! It stays until we talk.” He smiled wide at Derek, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Derek took three steps and grabbed him. “Take it down Stiles! I mean it! Now!” Stiles shook his head. “Nope.” Derek roared making the room shake. “Stiles I swear…You have done some stupid things…But this!” “Was freakin’ GENIUS!” Stiles laughed. “You have to admit its pretty bad ass! Now come sit.” Stiles sat down on the bed and patted the space next to him. Derek clenched and unclenched his fists. “I want to strangle you!” He muttered, but stomped to sit next to Stiles. Stiles smirked again at him. “Just admit it was pretty smart.” Derek rolled his eyes begrudgingly. Stiles pulled out his bag he had hid next to the bed and pulled out his red notebook. Derek looked at him “You actually wrote this all down? You planned this torture?” “Shhh! I have some things you must do…Before I un whammy the room. But…” He pointed at Derek. “No arguing, no growling, no threatening body parts…because I know you secretly love each and every one of them. So agreed?” Derek threw up his hands. “Do I even have a choice? And by the way I am so kicking Deaton’s ass for teaching you all this crap!” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Muy Macho! I get it. Ok number one. In all honesty. “Why did you kiss me.” Derek took a deep breath, he flexed his hands and looked away from Stiles. Stiles pulled his legs up and turned his body towards Derek. His heart pounding waiting. Derek rubbed his hands on his legs nervously. He looked sideways at Stiles. “Because…because…you are so…real.” He turned to look at Stiles whose eyes were wide. “Ok! You are real. You put it all out there…Your fears, your hopes, your caring…I…It’s something I can’t ever see in anyone else…just you. And when I see you…It makes me feel…again.” Derek closed his eyes as if exhausted by the confession. Stiles swallowed swiftly trying to keep his tears away. “Ok. Good answer. Good answer…Now on to the next…Why did you plant the gardens?” Derek stood up and began pacing. “Stiles…Come on now. This is enough.” “No. I said you had to answer these…honestly.” Derek flounced down into the chair across from him and rubbed his face. “Stiles, couldn’t it just be a nice gesture? Something to thank you…” Stiles frowned. “Come on Derek. Stop. I told you honesty. It’s time for honesty. Why?” Derek blew out his breath and looked away from him, then down at the arm of the chair, his fingers plucking at the fabric. He breathed in again deeply then looked at Stiles. “ I did it it…Because. I did it because you lost something… Something that made you happy, something I couldn’t get back for you…I don’t like when you are sad. I… wanted to make you happy, to see you smile like you used too..In the photos….” His eyes dropped to his lap waiting. Stiles was nodding his head slowly, his lips pressed together tightly. His eyes blinking furiously. “Ok. Last one. I want you to show me…” Derek startled. His hands on his chest. “Uh. What? Show you what?” Stiles stood up and put down the notebook. “You” he gestured. “Show me…You. The real full on You” Derek stood and chuckled nervously. “You mean…” “Yup. Everything.” Stiles nodded. Stiles turned his face away blushing slightly. Derek looked away, his heart pounding so forcefully that Stiles could see the rise and fall of his chest. “Uhmm. I’m not sure…We should do that.” Stiles grinned at him. “You run around half naked most of the time. You saw me in the locker room. Don’t be such a big baby!” “Stiles you are kind of a freak…You know that?” “Just get on with it or we’ll be here all night.” Stiles smiled at him with a wink. Derek slowly lifted off his shirt, and then carefully unbuttoned his jeans. He blushed slightly as they fell to the ground. “Ok? Happy? And you call me the creeper.” Derek mumbled softly. Stiles mouth just hung open in clear awe. He snapped it shut. “Uh. That’s…very nice…but I meant…Show me you as the real Derek.” Stiles hoped that his memory was truly imprinting every last detail. Derek looked at him surprised, then looked down and nodded. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. Stiles nodded. The fur creeping up his body blurred his shape slightly and he fell to his hands and knees. When he lifted his head Stiles saw a huge black wolf regarding him quietly. Stiles felt the breath catch in his throat. He bent down to kneel before Derek, his hands cautiously reaching out to stroke Derek’s head and scruff of his neck. Derek closed his eyes and gave a soft whimper, as Stiles hand smoothed his fur. “My god Derek you are so beautiful.” Derek sniffed at him his ears perked up slightly. Stiles blinked his eyes and wiped the tears away. He reached his arm around Derek and pulled him close. He rubbed his face against the wolf’s gently. “But this isn’t what I meant. I want to see the real you…This is just a part of you…This isn’t all of you.” He whispered into the wolf’s ear. “That’s what I fell in love with…The little boy who played baseball, who smiled at Halloween candy who loved and was loved.” Stiles pulled Derek against him tightly. He felt the fur gradually disappear and the smooth warm arms of Derek grabbing him and holding him. Derek looked up at Stiles. Wonder in his eyes, his face streaked with tears and a small helpless sob escaped his throat. “This is you Derek.” Stiles kissed him gently holding his face. He pulled their bodies close together. Derek buried his face against Stiles chest. Stiles cradled him tightly smoothing his hair gently. “You Derek…Not the Alpha, not just a werewolf… not the Hale guy in the burnt up house…You.” Derek pushed further into Stiles’ embrace and allowed himself to cry. It was like a new sensation, painful and sweet all at once. It was as if every dark thought, fear, betrayal and regret he had ever felt came pouring out of him. And Stiles was there like a summer day, calm, serene and loving to hold him and catch him from falling. Their lips fumbling found each other, tears mingling. “I see you. I see you.” Stiles whispered into his ear. His arms holding onto Derek fiercely. “And that’s why I love you, no matter what happens...I’ll love you.”

Hawkins backed up from comforting Killer the second Law said Eustass Kid was coming. Killer looked up to see Kid walking towards him and almost groaned. He didn't want to face him, not after what Law just said “Killer what the hell are you doing here?” he asked in a way Killer felt something was off “What do you mean? How did you even know I was here?” Killer asked concerned knowing he never said where he would be since he said he was working late “I have a tracker on your phone” Kid said and Killer froze and so did Law while Hawkins looked pissed off.  “You… have a… why the fuck would you have that on my phone!?” Killer asked shocked “Because I don’t trust you” Kid said.  Even if it was true, Killer still winced hurt from his own soulmate not trusting him. "You said you were working late, now I proved you were with him!” he pointed to Hawkins “Eustass! I think you’re missing a huge key element in all this” Law said and Kid turned to see Law was sitting there and was actually shocked to see Law there. Killer and Hawkins noticed that and felt, even if it was negative, Kid actually put Killer first. Sad, that this was what led up to it, all the negativity… it should have happened years ago. On a positive note. “What are you doing here!?” “Well, this is Cora-San and Doffy's bar” Law said quickly thinking that if he was tracking Killer, he’d know he was in the vicinity of the hospital, “Hawkins came to the hospital to thank me for…” “For mentoring my little brother, he’s his junior” Hawkins helped out when Law faltered slightly, “We ran into someone Law knew and both Law and Killer, was it?” Hawkins asked and Killer nodded, "Were looking worn down, so I offered drinks and we came here"  "I got off work early, I was going to text you Kid, but since Law was there I didn't think either of you would have like that" Killer said Law thought about Hawkin's words, “I have a few doctors I’m mentoring, what is his name again?” he knew Hawkins had to have told the truth and he told him. The same one who he swapped schedules with. At first they didn’t look the same, but he sees the resemblance clearly. What a small world. “Keep out of this!” Kid said glaring at Law, obviously ignoring what everyone said, including Law. Law just held his hands out and went back to drinking his drink looking at Cora-San who was rushing over.  “I don’t appreciate you coming in here and badgering my customers with a raised voice. So you need to leave now.” Corazon said in his best intimidation voice and Kid clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth before turning to Killer “Let’s go” “No, I want to finish my drink” Killer said and saw Kid look at him with a look. He knew if he had a tracker on his phone… he wouldn’t be able to go do the thing he was looking to do with Hawkins let alone finish his drink in peace with him, especially after both Hawkins and Law covered for him, which he didn’t deserve. He groaned and got up placing some money that was more than enough to cover the few drinks he had. He gave Hawkins a quick glance to say ‘sorry’.  Kid and Killer began to walk out, “We are going to have a long discussion about privacy when we get home” Killer said as they left the building Hawkins groaned out, “Did that guy do that with you, when you were still together?” “... Well, now that I think about it, there were times that Eustass just popped out of nowhere wherever I was even when he didn't know where I was. Didn’t think anything of that… until now” Law said shivering. “Well that’s creepy. Glad I got a new phone and number since then” “... What a douche.” he said sighing, “Well I should probably go” “See you around. Oh, by the way, your brother’s pretty cool, but you should tell him not to be so trusting of women named ‘Ikkaku’” “Why?” Hawkins asked and Law explained what Ikkaku did in order to have a shift with him instead of waiting and Hawkins laughed “He’s such a good guy, I’m proud of how he turned out. “Well I’m going to go.” he said, putting more cash on the counter. “Sorry about the mess.” he said, waving to both Cora-San and Law. He wished them a great night and left. “That.. was eventful” Law said and Corazon looked to him while cleaning the bar “Yeah, and now I have to clean up his spit all over my counter” Law laughed, “That was funny!” “Yeah and you're not the one who has to clean it up” Cora-San said in a blank tone before smiling at how much Law seemed to have changed. “I’m proud of you” When he received a look from Law, he finished. “For everything you said tonight. For what you did. It must have been hard” “Nah” Law said smiling, “The only hard thing was seeing his name on another hand, I guess, but it wasn’t that hard” Corazon was shocked to hear that coming directly from Law’s mouth, then he remembered what Doflamingo said when he called him. “Doffy told me what happened when he met the guy” “His name is Luffy” Law said “So, is Luffy the one who got you to not care as much about Eustass, you know the one who left you devastated for the last 5 years?” He asked, setting aside his washcloths as he was done cleaning the counters. Law was silent and Corazon continued.  “So, how is that going? Are you developing any feelings for him?” Cora-San asked as this is around the time potential soulmates begin to really start to feel connected and develop their feelings even more than they did before they registered. With Law and Luffy, they might feel even more connected and more feelings than normal. Law blushed a little and Corazon took that as a ‘yes’ “And Doffy said you got a video game system, aww this guy really has gotten to you for the better hasn’t he?” “… No” Law said and Corazon looked confused “Not for the better?” “That’s not what I said no to” Law said, sighing, “Well, I told him about my past with Eustass, and he wanted to help me through this all and… it’s been fun. I guess he has gotten to me for the better now that I think about it" he said smiling but it faltered slightly, it’s just too soon to see if anything is going to come of this”  That was when Luffy came in and walked to Law. Law got up and they hugged “Hey Luffy, how are you?” “Good… well the reason I’m late… I ran into Sabo who lectured me about ‘making his soulmate lie to him’” he said, groaning out like he thought the long lecture was not called for after all he lied to his potential soulmate first. “That was so not fun.” Law grinned, “You’re here now” “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss out on drinking with you” Luffy said grinning. Law laughed at the fact Sabo lectured him and how Luffy was pouting at him. Law asked if it was worth it and Luffy nodded. Both were radiant with happiness. Corazon watched the two and instantly knew they have developing feelings and Law is a lot happier even when he was with Kid. He couldn’t help but smile, “Come sit down and let me know what you want to order” Luffy sat down and ordered a drink. “So how was surgery?” “Good, everything went well” “You worked today?” Corazon asked as he made Luffy’s drink. He knew that Law always gives him a copy of his shifts for emergency purposes and today he wasn’t supposed to work “Today was my day off, but I was called in for an emergency surgery.” “Does that happen a lot?” Corazon asked and Law shrugged “Not too often” Law said as Corazon gave him another drink, “Surprised it doesn’t happen more than that considering how many dumbasses get hurt in this city” “So, uh, who are you to Traffy again?” Luffy asked and the bartender looked to him and smiled “We’re like siblings” Cora-san said “Really? You might be like Ace and Sabo then” Luffy said “What do you mean?” Law asked “Well, we aren’t related by blood but were raised together and swore to be brothers since we were kids” Luffy said grinning “You were adopted?” “No, they weren’t either” Luffy said and Law was confused, he might need to ask them when he meets them. He shivered slightly when thinking he wanted to meet Ace…  “We weren’t like that, raised together I mean.” Law said after shaking his previous thought away. “... When my parents had my younger sister, they… didn’t really have time for me. When I turned 8 and my sister was 3, they eventually signed me up to one of those big brother program things after school because they were too busy with her to even come pick me up.” “Ah, so that’s where you two met” “Yeah” Corazon said and Luffy heard the tones of voices that both Law and Corazon had “I’m taking it you have parent problems?” Luffy asked and Law nodded “I haven’t spoken with my parents since I was 11” Law said, answering the unasked question that Luffy had on his face. “... Eustass wasn’t the first person to abandon me… they didn’t need me when they had their golden child.” Luffy froze, “I’m sorry” “I’ve been over that, so it’s fine” Law said, sighing looking at his drink, “The good thing that came out of that scenario is having good brothers like Cora-San and Doffy. I couldn’t have gotten through the last 15 years, especially the last 5 years, without them” he said  “Cheers to having good brothers” Luffy said, raising his glass and Law raised his. Clinking their glasses together, they drank. Eventually their topic of discussion changed when Corazon asked a question. “So what have you guys been up to since you’ve registered?” Cora-San asked “Well, the most recent thing we’ve done was have Luffy’s friends over and playing Monster Hunter with them” Law said as a matter of fact and laughed, “I love Sanji’s dad joke and Zoro’s reaction” “That happens a lot, trust me, they are bottomless ends of fun” “I can see that.” Law said with a genuine smile. As the two were talking about what happened when they hung out with Luffy’s friends, Corazon watched and had a couple of tears form. He was so happy Law found someone like Luffy, to finally teach him to be himself. To be ok with showing off who he was and have fun with other people who have similar interests. The two talked about so many things, drinking so much that eventually Cora-San had to cut them off, worried how the two were, now, swaying in their seats. “Cooome on Cora-SAN, one more pwease” Law asked drunk off his mind “Yeah, wan mooor wouldnkill ass~” Luffy said and Law chuckled “You s’d ass” Law said and both of them broke out in giggles and then full blown laughter making Corazon groan out at himself for letting the two get this bad. He was just so happy for Law that he forgot to cut them off when he was supposed to. “You guys are too damn drunk, you guys need to leave and go home and get some rest” Cora-San said and the two stopped laughing and groaned out with pouts on their faces, “Yep you’re drunk, you look like rabid monkeys trying to show off their teeth” “Ggrrrn'figh, we’re going” Law said getting up “I’ll put it on your tab” Cora-San said and Law gave him a drunken thumbs up before leaving with Luffy. "God, I hope those two don't do anything too crazy" Corazon said sighing worried for them. He's never overserved someone before, and he didn't want the two hurt. But something in his bones said not to worry too much, so he continued to do his job The next morning Law woke up in his bed and before he could think about anything, Luffy was sleeping in the same bed as he was. TBC

“There’s no need to be nervous, Vecinita.”  The familiar rumble of Javier’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look over to find him watching you; perceptive as ever, even from behind his yellow aviators. He squeezes your joined hands. You duck your head, smiling a little. You should have known better than to think he wouldn’t notice. Curiosity prompted you to look around as you walked through a new neighborhood with him, but your nerves rendered you quieter than usual- because Javi was taking you to the abuela’s bakery. It was a prospect you forgot about for a while, caught up in work and life and how much more lively the latter seemed now that it had Javier in it. But one day you had spotted some pasteles de gloria at a different bakery the two of you were passing, and you couldn’t resist treating him. You had hummed thoughtfully around the moreish filling of cheese and guava paste. Delicious as ever, but-  “The ones you brought me were better.” You smiled at Javi, who was demolishing his own pastry with a speed that matched his appreciation.  How he swallowed his last bite so quickly without even appearing to have chewed, you’re not sure. But his answering chuckle sounded unblemished as he bumped his elbow with yours. “I’ll tell Carmela you said so.” A thought occurred to him. “Unless- you want to.” “Want to what?” you asked, confused and slightly distracted by the pastry filling about to spill over your fingers. “Tell her yourself. I still haven’t taken you her bakery.” That had given you pause. He’s brought you a few more sweets from Abuela’s bakery since you’d been ‘official’, but your schedules had never aligned to be able to visit it together. You hadn’t wanted to pressure him, though- after hearing him mention her periodically over the past several months, you had an inkling that this might mean more to him than you initially imagined. Javier didn’t really have a ‘safe space’ here- no place or people who offered a haven, no one familial or external to all the shit that went down at his job. Except for la abuela. He found himself there sometimes, craving something- peace, perhaps, a slice of normality, of neutral ground- and she gave it to him. A coffee, a pastry, and an hour or so of undisturbed solitude. Of being nobody. You gave Javi a gentle, hopeful smile. ‘I’d love to tell her in person,” you responded.  Which is what you now found yourself about to do, as Javi leads you down a side street and stops in front of a doorway that’s open but partially obscured by a curtain of strung blue beads. A heavenly, butter-rich smell drifts through it, the wooden baubles clicking gently in the breeze from a fan inside. “Ready?” Javi tucks his sunglasses into his shirt. His normally deft fingers seem to fumble the motion, as if he's nervous himself, suddenly- and that more than anything helps bolster you. Feigning a confidence you don’t truly feel, you nod. Javier slips through the beads with minimal disturbance, but they clatter loudly around you, as if announcing the arrival of an outsider. You cringe at the raised eyebrow of a well-dressed woman in the process of taking a bag from someone behind the counter. But your fear of judgement is forgotten immediately as you take in the display cases before you, full to bursting with magnificent creations. Your jaw drops in pure delight. Trays of brightly-colored cookies, pastries oozing with filling or studded with toppings, breads folded and tucked and shaped in an endless variety of delicious configurations. The air smells of butter and sugar and- oooh, something savory as well. Your mouth waters as a young man comes through a door behind the counter carrying a tray of what appears to be freshly fried goods, oil still bubbling on their fine crumb coatings. Your attention is jerked to the side when Javi says your name. Sudden nerves surge in your belly when you see him standing with an older woman wrapped in a flour-spotted apron. The wrinkles on her face crease in a smile as you approach. “Esa es mi amiga,” Javi introduces you. This is my friend. She must not speak English, you think dumbly as he continues in Spanish. Duh. “She wanted to come and compliment your pasteles de gloria.” “Mucho gusto, señora,” you say shyly, extending your hand. Nice to meet you. She takes it, her skin soft with age around the enduring strength demanded by her craft.  “Es muy bonita, Javi,” Carmela says approvingly. She’s very pretty. The older woman shoots you a wink before patting Javi on his flush-stained cheek. “Lo sé,” he murmurs, his gaze clinging to you. I know. Your face heats under his eloquent stare. It wasn’t that Javier didn’t regularly make you feel beautiful and cared for- he just wasn’t usually so plain about it. Especially in front of others.  Abuela clears her throat pointedly, but her eyes are twinkling when you tear yours away from Javi. “Now, what was that about my pasteles?” -- Carmela has just set three steaming cups of coffee on the counter when Javi’s satellite phone rings. Like the vapor over the mugs, his tentative relaxation vanishes, his jaw immediately clenching, eyes closing as if praying for patience. If this isn’t important, someone’s getting reamed. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a long look, already asking for forgiveness. But you dismiss the notion that he needs it immediately, giving his arm a squeeze of reassurance before he steps away. Your understanding doesn’t mean you don’t worry, though. Abuela’s trails him in her concerned gaze, but you hide yours in the stirring of sugar into your cup. “Vecinita.” Javi returns to your side. “I have to go in. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to have to today-" ”It’s okay, Javi,” you interrupt. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later?”   “I’ll come back and pick you up,” he promises. Already that steely distance is returning to his countenance, the wall Agent Peña keeps between himself and the rest of the world. What inappropriate timing to dwell on how good promises sound in his low rasp. You almost shiver. Abuela waves him away with a stern smile, and then the blue bead curtain is swaying in his wake. You allow yourself a moment of melancholy, acknowledging the fear that snaps its teeth every time Javier is called away.  But you didn’t come here to wallow. The young man from before pokes his head out from the door behind the counter. “Carmela, could you show me the way to shape the pan trenza again? Cristina says I’m not doing it right.” He scowls bashfully, as if resentful of being told off, but not so proud he won’t ask for help. Abuela tuts, making her way off her stool, and you have a brilliant idea. “Can I help?” And so the rest of the day passes. Carmela puts you to work once you prove willing and able, but you have a great time, thrilled to be learning trade secrets from someone so knowledgeable. When Javi returns at the end of the day you almost miss the beads clattering, you’re so caught up in giggling at Abuela’s story about a disastrous attempt at teaching her daughter to bake. For his part, Javier is glad you don’t see his dour expression upon arriving- or his next one, when he’s certain his heart shoves out of his chest and onto his sleeve at the sight of you getting along so well with someone else he cares about. -- You find yourself surprisingly tired that night. If you hadn’t developed substantial upper arm strength from handling patients and equipment at the hospital, you’re certain your arms would be sore from rolling and shaping doughs all day. A yawn interrupts you telling Javi so while you both get ready for bed. He’s watching you from where he already sits against the headboard, a book in his lap. Your bedtime routine is more involved than his, but this step (his favorite) you both share: the day’s clothes falling to the floor, bare bodies dropping onto cool sheets. Javier openly admires the shape of you as you elongate yourself in a stretch beside him. You’re too intent on snuggling up to Javi to take note of his face. After your nerves pre-meeting the abuela, being alert and social all day, and the physical work of the baking itself, melting into Javi’s government-issued mattress has never felt so heavenly. You sigh in contentment as your head finds its familiar place on Javi’s thigh. “You alright, Vecinita?” It’s nearly a reflex for Javier to rest one hand on your shoulder, thumb sweeping over your skin, while the other marks its place in his book. He’s struck, suddenly, by how habitual this feels; by the sensation of peace settling over him, the primeval satisfaction of everything being in its place at the end of the day. He’s so preoccupied reflecting on the feeling that he almost misses your response.  “Yeah,” you mumble. “Just tired. You can keep reading, though.” You breathe in the smell of his skin, warm and masculine, his leg hair tickling your cheek. World’s best pillow , you think drowsily. Your eyes drift shut. “You wanna let me lay down first? I don’t want to wake you up when I move later.” Javi’s gentle, husky voice only lulls you further. “Don’t move, then.” Even half-asleep, you manage to sound matter-of-fact- putting him in his place just like you always do. Javier doesn’t reply, too busy stifling his amused reaction so as not to jostle you.  Deep affection wells within him for the utter ease with which you’ve accommodated to him. His quirks and his fears, the very nature of his existence in Columbia-  you’ve accepted it all while, somehow, still being yourself- a determined, individual presence who’s left your mark on Javier without him even realizing it. He’s not sure he’s felt this unburdened around anyone in a long time. He stares down at you, wondering if you're able feel it, with how intense the emotions behind it are. His cock begins to stir, and Javi curses lowly. What is this, a fucking...feelings boner? He supposes that’s one way to deal with them. What else is he meant to do with all the things he’s feeling besides give them to you? You’re who they're for, anyway. Javier sighs, tossing his book on the nightstand and scrubbing a hand over his face. Sometimes all he feels is hopelessly out of his depth. Tentatively he palms himself, stroking lightly over his not-quite fully stiffened length. Damn, but that’s nice- Javi feels shivery, sensitive, his breathing unsteady at the sight of himself gripping his own cock mere inches from your sleeping face. Then he releases it. Inhaling deeply, he turns off the lamp and settles back into his pillow, hoping the sound of your even breathing will relax both his mind and his dick. Maybe this will make more sense tomorrow. -- The next morning, Javier wakes feeling...rested. He opens his eyes to the yellow-gold of midmorning sun splashed across the ceiling. A dreamlike memory surfaces: at some point in the night, he had coaxed you off of him so he could lie down properly, mustering a tenderness that surprised even himself considering his half-asleep state. Javi rolls his head to the side. And there you are. You hadn’t gone far- your head is nestled on the very edge of your pillow, your body within arm’s reach. Still facing him, one arm is half-extended as if you’d wanted to stay connected to him even in unconsciousness. Javi observes your outstretched hand, your face slack in sleep, and feels the same bewildering rush of emotions that had overwhelmed him the night before. Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful. It makes his hands twitch, need and arousal that had never fully dissipated flaring low in his belly again. Javier maneuvers himself alongside you, careful not to wake you prematurely, and lightly brushes his lips over yours. Ever so gently, you swim to consciousness, following the familiar sensation of something pressing against your mouth. A kiss, you remember giddily. Your lips turn up in a smile as you open your eyes to Javi’s face, a tawny blur still within kissing distance. You hum in delight at his preferred method of wakeup, leaning in for another.  “Mmm.” Your next sound is more meaningful, as Javi shifts to enable your snuggling up to him and you feel his erection trapped against your hip. You work the dryness from your mouth. “Hi.” Javier chuckles. His own voice still crackles with sleep. “Morning, Vecinita.” His arms twine around you, holding you close. The sleep-warm taste of him is in startling contrast to the bright, insistent press of his bare body, waking you more effectively than any alarm. You’re not quite on full power yet, though- “I don’t think it’s accurate to call me ‘neighbor’ anymore when we sleep in the same place so often,” your hazy mind comes out with. “Hmmm.” Javi’s contemplative hum rumbles against your chest, and you get the sudden feeling that you don’t know what you just walked into. “What should I call you then?”  His mouth moves along your cheek. “Preciosa?” His other preferred endearment for you. “Dulzura?” He nibbles at your ear. “Ángel?” You giggle at that one, especially as his mustache tickles the sensitive spot on your neck that he knows better than to use against you. “Mi cielo,” Javier continues, the words distinct despite that his lips never seem to leave your skin. “Mi tesoro.” Your breath hitches when he rolls over you. Flares of arousal are quickly burning away the sleep fogging your thoughts. The words sizzle over your skin alongside his kisses, heat rising to meet the weight of his body, his affection. All you can see of him is the messy fringe over his forehead as he finishes, setting his lips over your heart: “...mi corázon.” His voice has dropped to a rough near-whisper. He seems reluctant to meet your gaze again, tracing small shapes over your breast with his nose, debating on whether to measure your reaction to his words or continue his actions and distract you from them entirely. “Javi.” It’s not his decision. You grasp his face in your hands, urging him back up to you. You catch only a glimpse of the uncertainty in his eyes before his mouth is devouring yours, deep and desperate and with single-minded focus. Javier doesn’t have a fucking clue why he thought waking you up would help. The adoring look in your eyes after his tiny wakeup peck; your sleep-pliant body, melding so easily to his hold, only fanned the flames of whatever it was he was experiencing. You brought out his sappy side- made him say shit that he hasn’t even thought of anyone else in... Too long. He doesn’t want to risk learning your response yet. So he makes sure your tongue is otherwise engaged, tangling with his own while lets his free hand wander- palming, tweaking, drawing from you the breathy sounds and squirms he loves so much. The sheets are kicked aside as your awareness gradually narrows to exclude everything but each other. You inhale sharply at the rigid length of him against your mound, instinctively rocking your hips in time with his subtle rutting. “Javi,” you try to say. His name seems to be your only remaining vocabulary, smudged into a moan by his consuming embrace. You know Javier is a man of action more than words- so hearing such sweet terms unravel from his husky grit had made your heart soar, even as slick pooled between your thighs. You part them now, welcoming him to drop between them, and he does- releasing a shocked grunt as his cock slips along the evidence of your arousal. “Preciosa, you’re so wet,” Javier groans, and just like every time, you smile, hearing the question in it. “All for you,” you croon in answer. “Just li- ah, like always.” Your whimpered interruption is due to the head of his cock catching on your clit, your brain briefly short-circuiting at the sparks of pleasure. Javi knows you love the velvet ridges of him of him against your center, knows it makes you even wetter for him. “Fuck,” you swear. Your fingers scrabble for purchase in the muscles of Javi’s back; your teeth leave a mark on his shoulder as you convulse with need. Normally he likes to touch you for longer and you like to touch him too, but abruptly you don’t want to wait another second. You need him inside you, want the thick slide of his cock to be what opens you up- you want to watch his face when you slicken and stretch around him, want him to feel how immediately it happens. All this you try to convey with the tilt of your hips, attempting to angle them so he can sink into you. Javier huffs against your lips. “Already, preciosa? You sure?" “Yeah,” you breathe, pleading up at him. Javi must feel the same urgent need that you do, because he reaches down, running the head of his cock through your arousal before guiding it into you. He makes it most of the way in before he’s stymied; drawing back, he plunges in again, and this time doesn’t stop until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs. His eyes are soot-dark and hooded, his lips parted with effort as he watches you bloom for him. You spread your thighs as wide as they can go, encouraging him to get deeper- and with one last retreat and return he’s there, pressing himself into you as fully as possible, your slick finally easing the way for him completely. Your breath trembles in your throat at the pressure, his closeness. Javi leans his weight on the back of one knee, hitching you open for him, and still your hips strain upward, your arms weaving around his wide shoulders in a vise to keep him within reach of your lips. A high, crystalline sound fractures from you. Javier is in the same state, jagged breaths carrying inflections of disbelief as you both adjust. It’s always like this, you think deliriously, as he swells along a particular spot that has your eyes rolling back in your head. How is it always like this? Everything in you begs for more. How does it always feel this good? Javier answers the question you hadn’t realized you’d voiced aloud. “Because it’s you and me, Vecinita. It’s you and me.”  You don’t have a chance to reply, as he starts to move and you lose the ability of coherence entirely. You’re participating, but only just- Javi is in control again, physically at least. Emotionally- you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this intense. Every thrust deep and prolonged, one large hand hooked behind your shoulder to keep you firmly connected to him. His eyes never leave yours- they scour your face with a desperation that speaks volumes as to what’s prompted his attention this morning. Your brow furrows as you consider this, knowing well Javi’s preferred methods of communication. Touch, sex, deeds- he likes to distract before breaking bad news, work up to and ground himself during important conversations. This was a conversation in itself- this adoration of the flesh, this imploring for you to translate his devotion from the slanting of mouths and the joining of hands into words. But maybe not yet- as if Javier can see your thoughts on your face, he does something, changes something, and then the angle of his thrusts are so right you are incapacitated to everything but the pleasure roiling between your hips, a steadily mounting euphoria that has your eyes squeezing shut and your breath scraping in short pants. You tell him. “Fuck, Javi- I’m gonna- I’m gonna come-” Javi doesn’t stop as you shudder apart around him, ensuring his steady, measured strokes are along exactly the right spot to keep you reeling. Empires are born and collapsed in the time it takes you to return to yourself. You have have to stop him for a moment of recovery. “Fuck, Javi.” Your voice is weak and your breathing erratic, but it doesn’t dim the satisfaction and gratitude radiating from you. If Javier had it his way, that lazy smile and the gleam of sweat would be all you ever wore. Javi almost smiles back, but his habitual smugness is only a faint echo behind the reverberations of your cries in his ears; the image of your pleasure-wrung face is superimposed over his vision.  “You can keep going now,” you murmur, once you stop spasming with aftershocks at every movement of his hips. “Want you to come, too.” Javier resumes his rhythm, only to nearly collapse at the change in you: you feel impossibly slicker, hotter, even more perfectly molded to his cock. He releases a harsh, almost pained sound that would have you concerned if you couldn’t see his face- the ecstasy amidst the helplessness twisting his features.  You makes encouraging noises for him, squeezing his ass and tugging on the hair at his nape like he enjoys. Pleasure twinges in your core again; but this isn’t about you anymore. You keep your eyes open to Javi’s desperate gaze. Your name tears ragged from his chest, and his eyes widen; his thrusts turn hard and quick and then he’s done, burying his face in your neck like he’s trying to crawl inside you as his body tenses with his own release. His weight sags down into you when he relaxes, and you wrap your arms around him and hold him close. You lay in silent stillness together for a long moment, chests heaving. Your fingertips slip in the sweat filming his skin; the same dampness sticks to the sheet beneath your back. You turn your face to Javier, offering him an affectionate quirk of your lips. His head shuffles back on your shoulder so he can meet your eye. He seems much more settled now- if anything, he's almost frowning as he tries to mentally navigate whatever course he's chosen. His gaze keeps flitting away, conflicting thoughts pulling it this way and that.  His voice is gruff when he speaks. “Vecinita…” He props himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. Curling locks of hair fall over his forehead in the boyish way you love, the tips damp with sweat. “You are...fuck.” Javi ducks his face to the side. “I’m shit at this,” he grumbles. You wait, your brow crinkling in bemused concern. “Preciosa. You are...very important to me.” In contrast to earlier, Javi seems at a loss for words now, dipping his head to skim his lips over your shoulder without posturing. But you see his hand tremble when he splays it over your belly; you’d felt the urgency with which those same hands grasped you mere moments ago. You observe this man you care so much about, his face a tableau of the hours-past sunrise. Shadows linger in his clouded gaze. But his skin is shaded in golden light, pink blushing his swollen lips. Sun and kissed in every sense. Gorgeous. Yours . Your heart aches with tenderness for him. “I know, Javi. You’re..important to me too.” You speak as softly as you can. Powerful relief rushes through Javier. If he’d been standing, he thinks his knees might have gone weak. “Thank you,” he says quietly. He kisses you again, fitting his lips to yours with heartbreaking gentleness. Like you (or maybe what’s between you) is some delicate thing.  But it’s Javi who’s fragile right now, you realize. So you pull him back to you and hold him tight; and you don’t let go for a long, long time.

Lena desperately shook Kara’s body, as sobs ripped from deep within her throat. “Kara! NO! Please, I can’t lose you. I just got you back, I can’t lose you!” Panic and agony festered and exploded inside her, and she had no idea what to do. How did Kara get the kryptonite crystals? How did Kara hide them? Why did Kara have them? She sobbed. None of that mattered. She had to save the love of her life. She couldn’t let her die. So, with a strength she didn’t know she even possessed, and driven by adrenaline, she hoisted Kara up into her arms and walked as fast as she could towards Alex’s hotel room. She kicked the door, hard. And it quickly opened to Kelly who was holding Dominic in her arms. Kelly’s eyes went wide. “What the hell happened?” “Why is Aunt Kara sleeping, momma?” Dominic asked. Lena’s tears were rampantly streaming down her face. “Please. You have to help her. She-,” She sobbed. “She swallowed Kryptonite, and I don’t know how much longer she has… I don’t even know if she’s alive.” Kelly’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Dominic please tell your mommy to come here, and then go play with your sister in your room, okay?” She asked as she placed her son down. The boy happily nodded and within moments Alex was at the door. Her eyes went wide. “Kara!?” She asked in panic. “Oh fuck. What the hell happened?!?” “I don’t know how she did it. I don’t know where she got it. But she swallowed kryptonite rocks. It’s running through her blood stream. I don’t know what to do, Alex. She’s being damaged every second we stand here! I need your help. I can’t… She can’t die!” Lena cried in anguish. Alex’s eyes were already tearing up and she nodded. “Put her on the couch I’m going to check her vitals.” Alex said before she rushed into her bedroom. Lena did as she was told and frantically ran to gently place Kara down. “Please Kara, don’t leave me.” She cried as she sat on the coffee table and held Kara’s hand between her own. She placed the hand against her mouth and kissed it as she sobbed. “Please Kara! Please just WAKE UP!” Alex rushed back in with a Med kit and immediately got to work checking her heart and breathing, and with each set of numbers she got, Alex’s face grew grimmer and grimmer. “Alex, please!” She begged tearfully. “Save her. I can’t-… I can’t live without her again.” Alex gulped and met Lena’s eyes with heartbreak written all over her face. “I can’t get a heartbeat, Lena. I-,” She sobbed. She shook Kara. “Please Kara! Wake up! Wake up!”  When she got no response she looked up to Lena. “We have to get her to J’onn’s ASAP. We’ve got to get his space car. The only way to stop this now is with Kryptonian technology far beyond my understanding. We have to get her to Alura.” She paused and her eyes widened as a realization hit her. “Wait… didn’t one of your multiverse people make a kryptonite cure?”   Lena’s heart ached. She wished it were that easy. “Yes, but that makes her immune to future attacks, it doesn’t stop an attack that is already happening.” Alex growled. It was obvious that she desperately wanted to help Kara but felt useless. She pulled out her phone and dialed hurriedly. “J’onn? Please help it’s Kara!” Within four seconds of the call, there was a harsh thud out on the balcony as J’onn, M’gann, Nia, and Brainy landed. J’onn rushed to his surrogate daughter. “Kara?” He asked, devastation spread over his face.” He looked to Lena and glared. “What happened?” Brainy and M’gann stayed quiet, but Nia did not as she sent Lena a murderous glare. “I knew we shouldn’t have brought you back to her! What did you do to her?!” She asked, summoning balls of dreamer magic, ready to strike Lena down. To Lena’s complete shock, Alex stepped between them. “Calm down, Nia. She didn’t do anything to her. Kara has been…” Alex paused as her voice cracked. “Though we didn’t know it, Kara has been wanting to hurt herself recently. But when Lena got there, Kara did almost a complete 180. She was talking again, she was eating, she LEFT THE BED! Lena was helping. I think… I think Kara thought that Lena and I were fighting again and… Well, I think that, that belief pushed her over the edge. But right now we don’t have time for the goddamn semantics! We need to get Kara to Argo! NOW!” The superfriends all looked at each other before agreeing in unison, J’onn picked up Kara, M’gann picked up Alex, and Brainy picked up Nia before lifting off into the sky. Lena’s heart shattered… they weren’t taking her with them. She crumbled apart right then and there. She started bawling her eyes out before a gentle hand rested atop her shoulder. Lena looked up to find a sympathetic smile being sent her way.” “You really are in love with her, aren’t you?” Lena nodded. “I love her more than anything, Kelly. I’d do anything to switch places with her right now.” She sniffled. “I just want to be there for her so badly. And now I know that even if she makes it, I won’t be able to see her for ages. Alex wants to take her back to Argo and stay there so that Kara can receive the treatment she needs.” “You aren’t going to join us in our return to Argo?” Kelly asked, seemingly shocked. Lena furrowed her brow. “How can I? They’ve already left.” Kelly gave Lena a sweet little laugh. “Lena… if Alex didn’t plan on bringing you to Argo you wouldn’t be in this room with myself and our children. We’re going back to Argo too. We’re just waiting for them to get back. All of us wouldn’t fit in J’onn’s car at once. They’re making a second trip to come get us.” Lena let out a conflicted sob of relief that she wasn’t being left behind, but also agony because Kara’s life was still on the line. “If she dies, I’m going to die too.” Lena said. “I wouldn’t survive it. Not again” She shook her head. Kelly wiped away a few of her own tears and nodded as she sat on the couch, right in front of Lena. “Neither would Alex.” She stated. “That’s one thing you and Alex both have in common. You’d both let the world burn for Kara.” Lena gulped back her emotional turmoil and nodded. “I’d let the entire universe burn for her.” Kelly smiled and nodded. “That’s the type of person Kara needs in her life. I am sorry that life has been so hard on you. And I know that you did seriously betray Kara and the rest of the team, but I do think that Kara needs you now. Perhaps more than ever before.” Lena smiled sadly in appreciation. It was good to finally have someone on her side besides Kara. “Thank you.” She replied. “I just wish Alex thought the same.” Kelly sighed. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive you for what you did, but I do know that she will put Kara’s needs above anything else.” “I just want Kara to be okay.” Lena admitted melancholily. “Nothing else is important to me right now. I just need Kara to be okay.” Kelly nodded. “We all do.”   XXX   J’onn had picked them up four hours later, and during those four agonizing hours, all Lena could do was wallow in her heartbreak and misery; worrying constantly about Kara. She felt so guilty. She should have known when Kara began to cry when they said farewell all those months ago, that this would trigger her depression. She should have fought harder to stay in Kara’s life. She shouldn’t have even suggested that they went their separate ways.  All it had done was cause far more pain when her only intention was to rid Kara of said pain. But she had no more time to stew on that, because Argo city was now within her sight, and Lena’s heart was beginning to throb painfully in her chest with anxiety. She needed to know how Kara was doing. She needed to know how she could help Kara. As soon as the ship touched down, Lena was unbuckled and up and out of her seat. J’onn placed a strong hand on Lena’s. “Whoa! Settle down, you aren’t familiar with Argo or Kryptonese. You have no way of getting to where you need to be. Let us get you there.” Lena frowned as she wiped away tears that were obstructing her vision. “I just want to know where my-my best friend is!” “Then let us take you there.” J’onn said calmly as he, Kelly, and the kids all exited the car. Lena clenched her jaw but nodded and followed after them.  When she stepped out and onto Argo, Lena was mesmerized. Argo, in all its glory, was just as gorgeous as Kara had always described it. It was futuristic, and illuminated in a bright red glow. The buildings were tall, the homes were elegant, and the people all looked so happy. She now understood why Kara loved her home world so much. Not only was it rich in tradition, and culture; but it was gorgeous. She easily realized that if Kara wanted her to, Lena could easily make herself at home here. Especially if Kara was by her side. She followed J’onn and Kelly for a while, walking and making her way through groups of people. Finally reaching a large building with at least twenty- five stories. “Is this the hospital?” Lena asked. J’onn turned to her and nodded. “Yes.” Lena was relieved. She was finally going to get to see Kara. “What floor and room number?” J’onn and Kelly both shared a mournful look, and Lena’s heart sank. Tears sprung from her eyes once more. “Oh god.” She sobbed, her knees buckling out from under her; but before she could hit the ground, J’onn caught her with his strong arms. “She can’t… She can’t be dead.”  J’onn pulled her back up. “She’s not.” J’onn said, “She’s fighting for her life in the operating room.” he informed. “They went into her stomach and were trying to fish out all the little kryptonite crystals that were left, hoping that the rest would flush itself out; but she didn’t swallow three of four huge rocks, Lena. She swallowed dozens of small ones. Ones that are not easy to see or grab onto.” Lena let out a strangled sob. “But she’s going to be fine, right?” She asked, but she received no answer. “RIGHT?!” She demanded. “We don’t know.” J’onn replied. “There’s no way to tell if they’ll manage getting out the undigested stones, and even if they do there is no guarantee that she’ll recover. They’ve given her an iv filled with an antibody to fight the kryptonite in her bloodstream already, but she’s had it in her system for so long there’s no telling what the damage done could be.” “Give me access to a lab.” Lena insisted. “I will find a way to cure her. To keep her alive.” “If the brightest minds of Krypton aren’t able to do so with their decades of experience with Kryptonian science and medicine, a human who hasn’t the first idea about Kryptonian science most definitely wouldn’t be able to. You’d just exhaust yourself, and that’s not what Kara needs. She needs us all to be strong for her.” J’onn replied. Lena looked to Kelly, who was nodding in agreement with the Martian and she let out a huff of annoyance. She was outnumbered. “Momma! Can we go to the park please?” Dominic asked, completely unaware that his beloved aunt was dying on an operation table. “I miss my friends!” “Yay the park!” Maya cheered in excitement along with her brother. Kelly frowned. She looked to J’onn pleadingly; it was clear that she wanted to keep her kids oblivious to what was going on, but she also desperately wanted to go and support her wife through such a difficult time. J’onn hummed lowly and nodded. Kelly smiled gratefully and mouthed “Thank you so much.” To the man before facing her children with the happiest forced smile she could manage. “How about we let Grampy J’onn take you to the park today?” “YAYYYYY!!” They both cheered running over to J’onn and hugging his legs.  Lena watched as J’onn lovingly smiled down at the children before scooping up one of them in each of his arms. “Let’s go have some fun, you little hooligans!”  He said with a smile. He turned to Kelly. “Alex and the rest are waiting for info on the seventeenth floor in the waiting lobby. Keep me informed.” Kelly nodded; and with that, he was off with the children. At that point, the two women made their way into the hospital and got into a futuristic elevator that went so quickly Lena thought she was imagining things. But finally, they were at the seventeenth floor and they found the lobby to see Alex, Eliza, and Alura all crying together, with Nia and Brainy a few rows behind them looking stoic as well.  Lena’s heart ached for everyone and she wished she could take away all of their pain, but she knew that she couldn’t. She knew they’d all be devastated and forever changed if they were to lose Kara. Much the same as Lena. Kelly rushed to be at her wife’s side, wrapping her arms around her wife, and resting her head against auburn hair as she herself, cried tears of woe. Lena observed them all; all of them absolutely devastated, and her heart cracked even more at that. Lena took a seat in the far corner of the room, far from all of the superfam. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned her head against the wall as she bawled her eyes out with the rest of them. She had never been in such excruciating anguish in her entire life. She had thought that the twelve years she had been without Kara had hurt; and thought that the 9 months that she had to stay away from Kara was agony, but this pain? The pain of knowing that Kara wanted to die? That Kara was dying and she might never get to see her again for the rest of eternity? That was a type of pain that was unmatched. No other form of misery could ever compare to what she was feeling right then and there. She stayed that way for hours; Lena desperate to hear from the doctors; desperate for someone to hold her while she cried just as everyone else had someone to cry with. But they all hated her; and were only tolerating her for Kara’s benefit; so it would never happen, and that just added insult to devastating injury. She didn’t know if she was going to survive a moment longer in depressed suspense, but she didn’t have to find out, because five seconds later, a doctor came out. “I would like to speak with Kara Zor-El’s next of kin?” Alura stood up. “That would be me. I’m her mother.” Eliza stood up instantly as well. “As am I.” She stated, grabbing Alura’s hand and kissing it… That was… New. She had no idea that Eliza and Alura were together. The doctor nodded. “Would you like to speak in private, or would you like to have this conversation here?” He asked kindly. “Here.” Eliza and Alura responded in unison. The doctor nodded and stepped a few feet closer. “There is no easy way to say this, but we’ve done all that we can.” He stated. “We have given her an entire blood transfusion and gotten almost all of the kryptonite out of her system, but the damage the kryptonite caused while still in her system was substantial. There is no way of telling if she will wake up or not at this point. It’s all in Rao’s hands now.” At that, Kelly, Alex, Alura, and Eliza all broke down and sobbed uncontrollably, Lena, on the other hand, broke down, feeling nothing but numbness and denial flowing through her veins. “She is going to wake up.” Lena said through a quivering voice. “She is going to wake up, she is going to be healthy, and then we are going to get her the psychological help that she needs in order to be herself again.”  The doctor looked at her and smiled sympathetically. “I do hope that is the case.”  “Can we see her?” Nia asked, her voice hoarse from tears. The doctor nodded.  “Of course. Visiting hours aren’t quite over yet.” Everyone stood up and thanked the doctor, but he shook his head. “Only three people at a time, please.” Lena’s heart sank; she was never going to get the chance to see Kara. But she wouldn’t leave this hospital. Not for a second. Kara was too damn important for that. Alex shook her head. “I can’t-... I can’t see her like this. Not… Not yet.” Brainy and Nia held hands. “We’d like to visit her together, but we believe that we should let her mothers go first.” The doctor nodded. “He gestured to the double doors. Third room on the left.” He instructed. “Please be warned though, she does not look healthy.” Eliza sobbed into her hands. “I’m… I’m not sure I can handle this.” She cried as she fell into Alura’s embrace. Alura held Eliza tight as she herself cried. “Could we… Could we have a minute to prepare ourselves?” The doctor nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need.” Lena stood up. If no one else was going to see her, she would. She would never leave Kara alone. “I’d like to see her.” All eyes fell onto her, Nia’s eyes cold as ice. “No. You’re the whole reason any of this happened!” She snarled. “If you hadn’t hurt Alex, NONE of this would be happening!” Lena clenched her jaw. The accusation seared her like a scorching sword, but she didn’t reply… She knew Nia wasn’t wrong, but she also knew that Nia was in pain and taking it out on the easiest target. She looked to Alura and Eliza. “Would you mind if I went ahead and saw her while you two ready yourselves?” The two women looked at each other before they nodded their heads, giving Lena the go ahead. Lena gave a nod of gratitude before she rushed through the double doors and made her way to Kara’s room. Once she reached Kara’s room she slowly walked through the door to see Kara; who was connected to tubes, and wires, and lines. Lena’s heart shattered all over again as she slid a chair closer to the side of Kara’s bed and she sat down, taking Kara’s hand in her own. “Kara, please… We all need you. I know you’re hurting; I know you’re going through trauma that I couldn’t even pretend to understand, but we’re all here for you. We want to help you. We love you, and we will do whatever it takes to get you back to yourself again.” She rested her forehead on Kara’s hand that she held for a moment to let a few sobs escape; then rose her head back up, tears streaming from her eyes. “You have to wake up, Kara.” She cried. “I can’t live with myself knowing that I never got the chance to tell you that I’m so in love with you. I always have been. I never stopped loving you. Never stopped wanting you. I held out for twelve years, hoping each and every day that I would see you and convince you to give me another chance. I want to give you everything you could possibly dream of. I want to give you a family. I want to share my life with you. And I know… I know my face is disgusting, and that you could never be attracted to me like that. No matter how much I want you to love me like that, I know that it could never happen; I know that you’re still grieving the loss of the love of your life; but you’re the love of my life. And I don’t know what to do anymore, Kara. I just want to make you happy. I want you to live. So please, Kara. Just live.” She sobbed for a few more minutes when there was a spike in the beeping on one of the monitors. Lena looked up, confused and worried; and realized that Kara’s brainwaves were going haywire. Her eyes went wide as terror coursed through her body. Kara was having a stroke. Fear swelled in Lena’s heart as she bolted up out of her seat. She ran into the hallways and started to scream. “HELP!! HELP!! I need help in here!” She cried. And as she watched a flood of doctors and nurses rush into Kara’s room, Lena felt like she was having an out of body experience as she cried tears of utter despair. She just wanted Kara back.

“It’s just a check-up, Peter, I could’ve come here by myself.” Peter said he made a decent amount of money testing products and vlogging, but why did he insist on driving something that looked like an heirloom from the nearest predator ring? Several women in the parking lot already crossed the street to avoid coming anywhere near it, clutching their purses tighter to their sides when they shuffled toward the entrance to the building. You tried not to dwell too much on it. It wasn’t like you had the right to be too embarrassed; you were the one bumming a ride off your all-too enthusiastic boyfriend. “You know it wasn’t any trouble at all,” he responded in that chipper tone of his. “I’ve always got time for you!” “Trust me, I know. I just don’t want to get in the way of your work, especially not when you’ve gotten so many new sponsors waiting for a plug in your new videos.” You already checked in on your phone so the receptionist didn’t have to scramble around to fetch some new patient paperwork and questionnaires. You forked over your copay (much to Peter’s chagrin, because he tried once again to guilt trip you into letting him pay for something) and the two of you wandered over to the sullen couch that gasped and sank underneath your combined weight. Peter twiddled his thumbs and tried not to take up so much space. His tall, lanky stature made him pretty much all limbs and he could be a little clumsy if he wasn’t mindful of his size. He bounced his leg up and down, a nervous habit, and soon enough his hand crept over to rest on your knee. The icy touch of his fingers against your skin was welcome, only because you'd gotten used to the fact that he ran cold most of the time. Why wouldn’t he? His body fat was nonexistent. “How are you feeling right now?” he asked softly, his thumb drawing circles. “Still the same…I went right before we came but I feel like I have to pee again.” He craned his neck upwards to search for a bathroom. You shook your head. They would probably want to do some labwork and get a urine sample, so you could hold it. You heard your name being called and stood up to head back. The nurse gave you a slightly uncomfortable look as her gaze fixed over your shoulder. “Uh…" You turned around and sure enough, Peter was following obediently. “Can he come in?” “Of course. If you’re okay with it.” “Are you sure you don’t want to wait out here? I won’t be long.” Peter shook his head. “Sorry darling, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” You huffed out a laugh under your breath. You knew better than to argue with him. He reached toward you and grabbed your hand so you walked down the hallway in tandem. You tried not to spare him a glance, knowing full well his expression would be so gooey you wouldn’t have the heart to lecture him later about personal space. “Have a seat. You’re being seen by our nurse practitioner, she’ll be in shortly.” You stepped onto the stool and backed up towards the chair, attempting to tuck your dress across your backside so your panties weren’t plopped down directly on the seat. Despite your best efforts, it happened anyway. The chair was covered in crinkly paper that was sure to stick to your thighs by the end of the appointment.  Peter took a seat in the chair closest to you because of course he did. Unlike the regular doctor’s office, this place was notorious for moving quickly. The nurse practitioner popped in not too long afterwards. “Alright. Let’s get your height and weight, then I’ll take care of your vitals.” You could tell she was a little uncomfortable with him. His dead-eyed stare as he zeroed in on her actions made her sweat a little. He always did stuff like this. He wasn’t trying to judge them or freak them out, but he was overly protective and would keep a sharp eye on every move they made so they didn’t injure you in any way. She wrote down your information and pulled up a little laptop so she could type away at your newly created chart. “So, what brings you in today?” “I think I have a…UTI," you mumbled, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “I’ve never had one before so I’m not sure. But I keep feeling like I need to pee and when I do go, it’s really painful. Like…I don’t know how to describe it…” “Any changes in your urine? Color, smell?” “Nope!” Peter answered for you. You pinched the space between your eyebrows and the nurse’s eye twitched. “It’s the same as always.” “Right…uh…” She hid her face behind her screen. You were sure she was screaming internally. “Have you been feeling tired or fatigued?” “Yeah.” “Any nausea or vomiting?” “No, not really.” “Back pain?” “No…” “Okay. I want to rule out a UTI first since kidney infections can have similar symptoms. I’m going to order a urine culture. We have an in-house lab so the results shouldn’t take too long. There’s a bathroom across the hall with the equipment you’ll need for a sample. Wash your hands and then use a cleansing wipe. Pee a little bit outside of the cup first, we want to catch the sample mid-stream. You don’t have to fill the entire thing, only about halfway.” She stood up and you made a move to follow her. You cursed to yourself when you saw Peter stand up too. “Peter…" you muttered, shoving him back towards the chair. “I’ll be right back.” “Are you sure? I can help. You’ve told me before that giving urine samples is always messy. I can hold the cup for you!” “Peter," you hissed, “No! I’ll be right back!” You rushed out of the room before he could change his mind and come anyway. Ugh. If someone told you a year ago that you would be dating a guy this obsessed with you, you probably would’ve laughed it off. You knew that Peter’s adoration for you reached seriously abnormal levels. He knew way too much about you, did not know what boundaries were, and probably would’ve stopped breathing if you asked him nicely not to. Maybe for some people that sort of power would’ve been invigorating, but at this point you weren’t sure which of you was actually in more control. He would bend to your every whim and you were constantly worried that you were overstepping only because he thought you could do no wrong. You winced and tried to force yourself to pee. Come on. The sooner you could do this, the sooner you could get out of here. You were sure Peter already had plans to take you back to his place even though he picked you up from home. It was hard saying no to him, especially when he turned those soulful blue eyes toward you, sweating and stammering out a “please?”. You knew what would happen. He would act so innocent, using the excuse that he just “wanted to spend time” with you and that you “didn’t have to do anything”. And you always believed him! You would start off watching movies and cuddling on the couch.  Eventually, though, it all boiled down to one thing: Peter rearranging your guts on every surface imaginable. You groaned and looked across the bathroom. There were some mini water bottles lined up on a shelf with a sign indicating it was specifically for people who needed to give urine samples. You pulled your panties back up and ambled over to grab one, guzzling the entire thing down in one go. In the past week alone the guy had enticed you enough times that you were actually starting to feel some concern for his stamina. Was he like…okay? Sure, some guys’ refractory periods were shorter than others, but Peter could have his way with you and not five minutes after he was spent he would be ready to go another round. You thought it was a one-off because he was so pent up for being disinterested in sex all those years before you, but this man was constantly DTF. The worst part was…you liked it. You liked it because you were starved for affection and growing up other guys hadn’t given you even a fraction of the attention Peter had. He was utterly enamored with you, your body, and everything about you. He could spend hours kissing every inch of your body and lathing it with his tongue, drawing his name in circles with its tip all because he couldn’t get enough of you.  You shifted on the toilet. You were supposed to be trying to pee, not get worked up! A few more agonizing minutes passed and the urge to pee popped up again. Awesome. You pulled your panties down to get situated on the toilet and stared at the damp spot in the middle of them that was all too accusatory. Damn you, PETER!!! You set the cup aside after you were finished and headed back to the room. When you opened the door, Peter was about to exit out the door, looking distraught. “Darling, you took so long, I–” “Relax," you shushed him, pushing him back inside. “I just had trouble going. Plus it hurt. Like, a lot.” “Do you want me to kiss it better?” he offered, a knowing smile stretched across his face. “Genuine question: why are you like this?” The nurse practitioner wasn’t kidding when she said the labs wouldn’t take long at all. Within fifteen minutes of sitting around and sharing memes with each other, she knocked and came back in. “So the culture did come back positive for bacteria which means you have a UTI. The good news is that it's much easier to treat than a kidney infection. I can prescribe you some antibiotics for you to take for the next ten days or so and it should clear up.” You were embarrassed. You were always mindful of your hygiene and this had never happened to you before. “Um…what causes UTIs?” “A lot more than you’d think. All it takes is a little bit of bacteria to enter the urethra and it’s a breeding ground. Yours is cystitis so it’s an infection in the bladder and not the urethra. The most common cause for your type is sexual activity.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. “What?” “Having a partner makes it easier to introduce bacteria, especially if it’s a new partner.” She avoided looking at Peter, but you could tell she was talking about him. “Are you two sexually active?” You sighed. “Yeah…and we haven’t been together that long…” “Oh,” she laughed. “That’ll do it. You know, in the medical community we kind of joke about calling it ‘honeymoon cystitis’…it generally happens with frequent intercourse with a new partner, especially after a period of abstinence.” You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes. You shot Peter a look that screamed he was dead to you.  You were overwhelmed with flashbacks of you and him in his apartment. Every single time he bent you over a counter, the side of the bed, plowed you into the carpet and gave you a rug burn down your back, or pinned you against the tiled wall of his shower until you screamed at him that you didn’t want to slip and break your fucking arm, he was thoroughly ensuring that you were going to get a nasty infection that would make you miserable. “I went ahead and sent the prescription. It’s once a day. And since we’re trying to get rid of the infection, I would put the sexual activity on hold.” The mortified expression on his face almost made it worth it. You thanked her and gathered your things up so you could leave. Peter was very quiet the entire ride to the pharmacy, even though he insisted on going inside and grabbing the medication for you. You sank down into the seat of his van and let out a deep exhale while he was gone. Over an entire week without having him inside you? You hadn’t gone that long since the first time you had sex. His libido was off the charts. There was no way he was going to comply. Much to your surprise, Peter drove you straight home. He parked outside and let the car idle for a few moments before he turned to you with his eyes glassy. “I’m sorry!” he sputtered. All of your aforementioned rage dissipated in an instant. If this was an act to manipulate you, he was doing a bang-up job. “Peter…” “I didn’t know…” he muttered as he stared down at his hands. You could see he was clenching his fists so tight that they were trembling. “I should’ve taken better care of you and paid more attention. It’s my fault and…you ended up hurt because of me.” It was hard to believe you could bring a grown man to tears all because of some physical discomfort. “You heard what she said, it happens to a lot of people. It’s not like we knew that there’d be such a big risk by doing it so much.” Why didn’t you learn about this in school? This was crucial information! There should’ve been a class on ‘So Your Boyfriend Is Horny 24/7: How to Prepare Yourself’. “Besides, it’s not that bad of an infection - it’ll clear up in like a week. So…” He still looked distraught. He cut the engine and exited the vehicle, wheeling around the front so he could open up the door for you. Peter’s shoulders slumped as he led you up to your front door. You were a little surprised he hadn’t insisted on holding your hand like he did when you walked anywhere. You unlocked it and went through, expecting him to follow you, but he was rooted to the spot. “Aren’t you coming in?” He took a step back. “I…I have a video to shoot, so I should…” “Oh…yeah, sorry! I forgot you were in the middle of work. Um…text me when you get home?” “Of course, dear.” He gave you a lingering look before strutting down the hall and out of sight. You found yourself a little out of sorts when he disappeared. Didn’t you want some privacy? Sure, but it still felt…strange not having him with you. The next day was even weirder. Peter texted you his hellos and long rants about how much he loved you, how he dreamt of you, and even how dressed his body pillow in one of the shirts you “left” (debatable, you had a feeling he snatched it when he was at your place), but he didn’t mention anything about coming over or meeting up. You were halfway expecting him to show up at work and give you a surprise visit. He never did come by. Is everything okay? you texted him out of the blue during one of your breaks.  Everything is great! <3 How are YOU feeling? Have you been drinking more water? Yup, you lied, eyeing your glass of iced tea. He had a giant two liter jug of cranberry juice dropped off at your place, along with some snacks he knew were your favorites. Did he order it or did he bring it himself in secret? Either way you carted it inside and poured yourself a tall glass with a sigh. The days dragged on. Peter still hadn’t attempted to make any plans to see you. You were getting frustrated with him. You knew he was avoiding you. You didn’t think it would hurt so much. But him going from love bombing you every five minutes to cutting off all contact was wearing on you. If he wasn’t going to come to you, then you would go to him. You made absolutely sure he was at home. He insisted on sharing his location with you and it was a huge boon now. You made it to his place without any incident. You pounded on the door and he opened it up a sliver before gazing down at you between the chain lock and doorway. “Darling! Wh-what are you doing here?” “Can I come in?” He fidgeted. “Uh–” “Please? I…" You swallowed your pride. “I really miss you.” His pupils blew into little hearts and his face erupted into a blush. “Oh~!" You’d never seen someone slam a door and unlock it so fast. He stood in the doorway and gripped the edge of his sweater, tugging on it nervously. “You’re acting a little weird, Peter…are you hiding something?” “Me? I’d never hide anything from you,” he murmured suggestively. You waited for the inevitable arm snaking around your stomach so he could pull you flush against his hips, but it never came. “I didn’t know you were coming, my place is a little messy…” You gazed around. It wasn’t as bad as yours, honestly. “It looks good to me. Are you busy?” “I just sent my video to my editor, so…the afternoon is free.” “Good." You moved closer to him and he took a large step to the side. He was visibly sweating. “Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll grab you something to drink!” You frowned and watched him duck into the kitchen. Yeah, he was definitely avoiding any physical contact from you at all. You flopped onto the couch in a worse mood. Peter set down a drink for you and popped open a can of soda for himself, sipping at it quietly. He purposefully sat on the other side of the room. His leg bounced up and down. His smile was wobbly. If he was trying to convince you he was fine, he wasn’t doing a very good job. “Do…you want to talk about the elephant in the room?” You were tired of his silence. “I know you’re still upset about me getting a UTI, but I don’t get why you’re distancing yourself from me. Is it because you’re grossed out?” “No!” he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. “It’s not that at all!” “Then why haven’t you come to see me? I thought for sure you’d be all about staying with me for like a week to take care of me. I was already planning on washing a few more towels so you’d have clean ones…” He melted at the thought of you welcoming him into your place for even longer than just a night or two. “I wanted to. I did, but…darling, you make it…very difficult to keep composed…” You blinked. “What?” “Being around you already drives me crazy,” he breathed, his eyes focused and intense. His mouth twitched into a smile. “I can barely control myself as it is. You don’t understand what you do to me. When we’re alone, I can’t think. All that’s running through my mind is how much better I would feel if I was inside you.” You shifted in your seat. Okay, he knew what he was doing when he pulled that voice. He was heading for the nasty, lustful Peter you knew and loved. Not that you didn’t love the other sides to him, but his raw and unfettered need for you was the hottest thing. “So…” “So I had to distance myself. You’re…in pain, and it was because I couldn’t show any restraint. The last thing I’d ever want is to hurt you…without your express permission.” “Come on, Peter. We’re out in public all the time together and you can keep it together. What difference does it make when we’re at your place? Or mine?” “Do you have any idea what I have to do in order to think straight before seeing you?” He held eye contact with you and a thousand lewd thoughts ran through your head. “Yes, that’s right. Exactly what you’re thinking. Because otherwise we would never get anything done.” “That’s…so not healthy," you responded lamely. “I know, but that’s the power you have over me!” His voice was so gleeful and his pupils started to dilate. “And isn’t it wonderful? To know that at any given moment I could snap?” “You’re…ugh…" You crossed your arms. “So what, your solution is to just ignore me?” “I have to. I can’t have you in the same room and not touch you. Not feel you. I can’t even sit here without wanting to tear off your dress and replace the marks I gave you the last time we were together. I know they’re fading.” You didn’t even bother asking how he did. Creep. “Listen, Peter…we’re a couple now…and stuff like this has to be talked about so we can come up with solutions. You know? You leaving me in the dark like that isn’t cool, you were worried it had something to do with me. Like you were grossed out by the fact that I have an infection or something. So please don’t just make decisions like this on your own, it isn’t fair to me.” “Oh, darling, you’re so right.” He buried his head in his hands. “I’m sorry! I’ve hurt you again.” You gazed at him in a mixture of exasperation and adoration in equal parts. “It’s okay…let’s just work on it, alright? I know you want what’s best for me but sometimes I need a say, too…” You got up from the couch and kneeled in front of him, taking his hands and forcing them away from cradling his head. His eyes widened in disbelief when you replaced them with yours, cupping his face and bringing him into a gentle kiss.  That tender moment didn’t last. He moaned immediately into your mouth and he shoved his tongue inside so hard and fast you almost choked on it. You tried not to gag the moment he whirled it around, pressing it against the roof of your mouth, licking on the inside of your teeth, filling you so much that you struggled to remember how to breathe. You went to pull yourself away and he refused, inching forward so he could still keep his tongue inside your mouth for as long as possible. You finally broke free and his tongue flopped backwards and smacked against his chin. You wiped your mouth when you realized how much saliva he’d coated you with, long, viscous strands dripping from your lips and down your neck. “Peter! What the hell?!” “You taste so good. It’s been so long. Too long,” he panted. “I can’t wait anymore.” “Hey!" You scrambled onto your feet before he got any ideas and stood over him. He reached out for you before you could back up and dug his fingers into the fat of your hips with a tight squeeze. His cheek rested against your stomach and he snuggled even closer, panting, his entire body trembling. “Calm down!” “How can I calm down when you feel so fucking good?” he growled, his pawing getting a little more aggressive. “I need to be inside of you. Oh, god, please!” “No!" You pushed at his shoulders in an attempt to pry him off you. “I literally have a UTI! I’m still on antibiotics! You’re not putting your dick inside me!” “B-but I,” he blubbered, “I-I–” “You’re really needy." You tried to hide the grin on your face. You couldn’t help but go on a little bit of a power trip when he stroked your ego like this. You could make him a sniffling mess if you wanted to. “Look, we can’t have sex…the usual way. I mean…I’m still healing.” He knew you were right. The frustrated tears welled up in his eyes. Your eyes traveled down to the obvious tent in his jeans and you bit your lower lip. “But…we got along just fine before…”  You thought back to the days leading up to your first time. You took one look at that thing between his legs when he first pantsed himself and told him it wasn’t happening that night. There was no way. No amount of prep, no amount of cumming, no amount of fingering in one session was going to open you up enough to take him. Of course he was a little disappointed, but you spent the next few days practicing all sorts of ways to help you work up to his size. And when it finally did happen, there was only minor discomfort that didn’t last the moment he snaked a hand down between your legs to keep your clit stimulated. “Honey…?” You shot him a patient smile. “Lean back in the chair for me.” He did it without even thinking twice, eagerly awaiting your next move. You swung your leg over the side and straddled him. You sank down onto his lap, being mindful of your weight against him. Nothing would be more embarrassing than his couch giving out because it couldn’t handle you. You didn’t stop lowering yourself until the fabric of your panties met the rough material of his jeans. Peter’s expression went from bewildered to pure ecstasy. He gasped the moment you wiggled on his lap experimentally, creating a nice, firm friction against your already soaked underwear. “O-oh–” “I know this isn’t as good as being inside of me, but…" You placed your palms flat against his chest for leverage, rocking against him in a steady rhythm. “W-we can manage until the end of the week, right? With just this?” “Yes! Fuck, yes, I would do anything for you, darling. Just don’t leave me hanging dry!” “You did that to yourself!" You punctuated with a hard bounce on his lap. He thrust upwards and laughed breathlessly. “D-do you have any idea how awful it is when you’re not there?” “Do you mean that, my love? Do you?” He circled his arms around your back and buried his entire face in the swell of your chest. “I missed you so much, I couldn’t sleep at all. I wanted to be there to take care of you but I couldn’t trust myse–ahh–lf!” You grinded your hips in a circle, bracing your legs against the sides of the chair, feeling his entire body tense when you rubbed along the bulge straining against his pants.  “I f-followed you around town but it just wasn’t the same–” He hooked his fingers underneath the hem of your dress and flipped it up, bunching it near your neck so he could gaze at your torso in its entirety. You felt his hungry gaze zeroing in on his favorite parts of you, the extra rolls of flesh that were begging him to just sink his teeth into. He raked his eyes up your stomach and all the way up to your breasts. “You’re not wearing a bra?” he panted, his tongue already lolling out and his mouth watering. You helped him get the dress off before he ruined it by ripping it apart, something he’d done before. “You came here to seduce me, didn’t you? You’re so bold, I love it!” “That wasn’t fffuh…f-for you, I told you they make my back hur–ouch! ” “M’sorry, ish shooo gewd,” Peter moaned against your breast. His mouth fastened across the expanse of your areola and his tongue snaked around the nipple, tweaking it with enough dexterity to rival his fingers. Your yelp had been because his teeth fastened along the very tip of it, and he nibbled. He was generally good about being gentle, but him turning feral right now wasn’t putting him in the best state of mind. You pulled him off and his lips separated from your skin with a pop! “Didn’t anyone tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" you teased, thumbing at his now shining lower lip.  His sinfully long tongue curled around your finger and his heavy blush only deepened. “I guess you’ll just have to punish me, won’t you~?” “You’d like that way too much.”  You drew your finger to your mouth and pressed his tongue against your lips. He unfurled it and you took the opportunity to take the tip of it in your mouth, drawing the rest inside with a hard suck. Peter moaned and his thrusting became more erratic as he shook underneath you. You watched his eyes roll to the back of his head and you closed your teeth around the ring of muscle just tight enough for him to feel a gentle squeeze. “Haaah! Darling~! ” You felt it the moment he came in his pants. His jeans became warm and sticky between your legs. His loads were always comically huge and this was no different. He sobbed your name and went into a full body shudder when the last spasm between his legs died out. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. His cheeks were ruddy and his eyes were glassy enough to show he had just been fucked out of his mind. “Mm…” He whimpered when you withdrew from his tongue. “Y-you didn’t cum yet? Keep going! Use me to get off!” “Aren’t you sensitive?” “It doesn’t matter, you’re always supposed to cum first,” he whined. “Why did you let me do that?” “You really needed it…" You reached back to paw at his crotch and gazed at your hand when you retrieved it. Peter watched in embarrassment as you spread your fingers apart, the sticky strands coating each one in abundance. A lone glob of it seeped down past your wrist and you were quick to lap it up, loving the way he outright panted like a dog when you did. “This is just how much it got through your jeans.” You got off him to look at the damage. Well, that was…certainly something. Your ego had never been this big before. You expected there to be a mess, but that was a vast understatement. If that was what it looked like on the outside, he must have been uncomfortable.  You bent down and unbuttoned his jeans, urging him to lift his hips so you could yank them off. You gazed down at him. He was soft, which was a surprise given his usual way of bouncing back. His boxer briefs were soaked through and the dark stain made you give a hard swallow. Wow. “Didn’t you masturbate these past few days? Why are you so pent up?” “It’s not the same without you,” was his pitiful reply. “What about that toy you literally had modeled from my vagina?" You gazed around the room for it even though you knew for a fact he kept it in his bedroom drawers.  He grinned sheepishly. “I kind of…got a little rough, and well…it’s still under warranty, I can get a replacement!” Rest in peace. “Better it than me, I guess…” You climbed back on top of him and found that this was even better. Sure, the jeans felt good underneath you, but now the only thing separating you from his dick was a worn piece of fabric. You grinded down on him for good measure and couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped you when you literally felt him start to get hard between your legs. He was already huge when he was soft, so feeling that full length pressing up against your labia was something else. “I love it when you get that look on your pretty face…” Peter breathed heavily, cupping one breast in each hand. He curled and uncurled his hands, swiping over your nipples with his thumbs, tracing every stretch mark gently. “No one’s ever seen it, have they, honey? It’s just for me?” You didn’t answer him. He was right, but you hated how smug he sounded. You let go of more weight you were holding until you had him pinned to the chair and your thighs caged him in. You concentrated on everything you felt after closing your eyes. The warmth of his body, pliant and firm underneath your hands, slightly damp from his sweat. His labored breathing and the hitch he got in his throat when you shifted on top of him. His gentle murmur of your name when you pressed harder into him to feel his bulge slot perfectly between your folds. You rocked against him, your hips moving slow and deliberate, pinning his dick against his lower belly the harder it got and the more it curved upwards. You gazed down at him and found he had been staring at you with an awed look on his face.  “What?” You were a little flustered at how attentive he was. “I’m just admiring you.” He ran his fingers along your waist before settling on your hips. He pulled you closer to him and you tried not to wince at the change in position. You could feel the head of his dick had poked outside the band of his boxers and its warm weight was now pressed directly against your panties, prodding, bumping against the bottom of your clit. “God, I love you so much~!” “You’d better not slip inside my panties…” You were wary of how dangerous this could get. All he had to do was slide them to the side and you were wet enough that he could probably bottom out before you even knew what was happening. “I mean it…” “I wouldn’t do that to you…I promise! I’m not putting anything inside.” You knew he was being genuine. It did make you feel a little better so you let the worries wash away with every thrust of his hips. Peter got a little impatient and started to guide your hips against him, quickening your pace. You bit your lower lip and clenched around nothing. You felt so empty. You knew what it was like having him inside you, stuffed completely, gasping as your body struggled to accommodate him. You ended up squeezing around his bulge and caused him to stiffen against you. “Oh…” He grinned up at you. “You miss me inside of you, too?” You almost screamed when he sat up, causing you to teeter backwards. He caught you before you fell off the chair and pushed you onto the floor. Your backside hit the carpet and you didn’t have time to scold him for being too rough, because his obnoxiously large hands were gripping the inside of your thighs and wrenching them apart. “A little warning next time!” “I couldn’t help it. I can smell you, I-I have to taste it.” He tried to wipe away the fountain of drool pouring down his chin. “Just a little bit, I swear.” “No! No dick! No tongue!" You tried to close your legs and he forced them apart, his grip even tighter. You hated how hot it was that he could manhandle you like this. “Darling, I already told you I wouldn’t do that.” His tongue rolled out of his mouth and he yanked you forward so your legs would drape across his shoulders. “Now open up nice and wiiiide!” You arched into his waiting mouth the moment his mouth met your folds. He latched onto it in its entirety and tongued the soaking fabric, slurping up your juices through the darkest spots, fastening his mouth over each of your pussy lips and sucking on them hard enough to cause the most obscene noises to echo in the room. He moaned your name the entire time. “Mmph,” he punctuated with each sloppy kiss, leaving a trail of saliva from his puckered lips. “You’re so fucking wet for me. You’re so lucky I can’t use my hands or tongue. It doesn’t matter what part of me is inside you, darling, I could stay there forever if you let me. You taste so sweet, you don’t know what you do to me!” He buried his face between your thighs again and continued to tongue you, the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit. It was engorged enough for him to find it easily, rolling the nub over and over, mercilessly, your bundle of nerves assaulted in the best of ways. He was rough and gentle all at once. He sucked on it through your panties, he pressed his face so hard against you that you were positive he couldn’t breathe. He groaned and spoke to you, his words muffled, but the vibrations from his voice only sent a hard shiver down your spine. He pulled back and gazed up at you. He was a mess. His mouth was covered in your slick. He licked his lips and savored the taste that lingered there, running his tongue along his teeth. He bent down and gripped the elastic band of your panties with his teeth and when it snapped back against your hypersensitive skin, you gasped. He brushed his middle finger against your clit and rubbed it in short bursts. “What do you think, darling? How should I get you to cum?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer. He pulled away from you and got onto his knees. His chest heaved with excitement, his pupils now fully constricted. His lopsided grin did terrible things to you.  “I think it’s only fair that we continue where we left off earlier. If I can’t be inside of you, then we’ll do the next best thing~!” He tore his shirt off and threw it off to the side, not caring that it landed on the nearby lamp and knocked it over. You shouldn’t have taken your eyes off him, because he crawled on top of you as you draped your legs around his hips. He pressed down on you with a lovestruck look in his eyes, stroking the length of your calves, his cock bobbing between his legs and a good portion of it completely outside of his boxers. Its tip drooled all over the carpet and he took it one hand to slap it against your pussy, nudging the head against your clit once, twice, before dragging it down to the very spot where he could’ve plunged in were there no panties in his way. “Once this week is over…I’m going to give you a thorough, good fuck to make up for all the time we missed. But until then…hfff…don’t worry, my love, I’ll take care of you!” He planted his arms on either side of you and lowered himself down until there wasn’t any space between you. Finally you were rewarded with his warmth and you couldn’t help but lock your ankles across his back to make sure he didn’t even think about leaving. He chuckled and bent down to capture you in a messy kiss. You could taste yourself on him. He kissed you deeply to distract you while he finished adjusting himself into the perfect position. Peter refused to pull his mouth from yours even when you moaned in protest. His hips started in slow, hard circles. He kept the pressure on your clit the entire time, dragging his cock up and down, sinking into your curves. He didn’t do that for very long. It didn’t surprise you knowing how impatient he could be. Peter’s pace sped up. He bounced up and down against you, mimicking the same rhythm and hard thrusts he would give you if he were inside. He pulled away from your kiss-swollen lips and went for your neck and shoulders, his teeth bared before he clamped down on your bare skin. The stinging pain combined with his fat cock slamming against your clit was enough to push you to be more vocal. “Peter…ah!” “Darling!” he cried, quickening his pace, his thrusts more brutal than before. A reddish tint coated his lips and teeth from where he broke your skin and slurped away at the blood beading at your new wound. “Does it feel good? Tell me! Tell me how good I’m making you feel!” “Peter, oh god, please, don’t stop! I can’t, you’re so–" You could feel something building. That tightness that started between your legs and traveled to the pit of your belly. You swallowed hard and cried out when he bit you again, this time on your earlobe. He tongued the shell of your ear and his warm breath fanned over your skin, causing you to lift your hips up. “Right there! Ah, ah, AH!” “You’re so fucking hot like this! I can’t get enough! I’m so hard for you, can you feel that? Can you see what you do to me?!” “Y-yes!” “Mm, fuck! You like…that…spot? Right there?” He zeroed in on the hood of your clit. With every hard stroke it gave you just the right amount of stimulation without it being too much. “Can you hear it?! You’re wearing your panties but you’re so damn wet that every time I move against you, it sounds like I’m thrusting inside you! ” You cried out. “H-harder! Please! I’m so close!” He was right. Schlick, schlick, schlick. You felt more cum leak out of you and spread across your raw, aching thighs.  “Anything for you! Just…hold fucking still!” He rolled his full weight on top of you. You couldn’t see or hear anything but him. His heavy breaths, the smell of his sweat and cum, drops of sweat rolling down his forehead. He arched his back and pressed his forehead against yours, your legs spreading as far and wide as they could to accommodate him. Your knees drew up and he rutted against you like an animal in heat, his thrusts getting sloppier, harder, his hips snapping into you with enough force to pin you and knock the breath out of you. “Such a good fucking girl, taking all of me like this!” he cried, a fresh wave of tears bubbling in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful! I love you! You’re mine,” thrust, “mine!” thrust, “MINE!” You squeezed your eyes shut and the pressure mounted. This was it. You were going to cum from having your boyfriend dry hump you into the carpet! He was feral, he was overwhelmed, he was so lost in raw lust for you that he couldn’t even entertain any other thoughts outside of you. He recited your name like a mantra. His body was made for you and you for him, there was no other way to describe it, he slotted against you so perfectly and, oh, the thought of him coming undone from you only pushed you over the edge. “I can feel you clenching! Why, why can’t I be inside of you? I want to be inside so you can milk me dry. I can’t stand it! I want to put my cum in so deep, I want to watch how much drips out so I can lick it off you. I want to stuff you so full you can’t even move without it gushing down your legs! Oh, oh no, do you see what you’re doing to me? Just the thought of cumming inside of you makes me so hard it hurts! I-I’m not going to last much longer! Cum for me!” “PETER! I LOVE YOU!” “A-AH!” He chomped down on his lower lip and a fine mist of blood sprayed across your breasts as his eyes screwed shut. “DARLING, MARRY ME!” You gasped and the orgasm that rushed through you made you clench your legs together, trapping him there, forcing him to press against you while your clit throbbed and you came. A fresh wave of slick gushed out of you, easily passing through your ruined panties and splattering against his crotch. Your nails dug into his back and you clawed at him so he wouldn’t move. The action only made him arch into you and press harder, his arms shaking as he struggled to keep himself positioned above you.  Spasms rocked your body as it went into a full shudder. The initial orgasm faded but the aftershocks persisted, tiny jolts of pleasure that only intensified when his cock shifted against you. You felt his warm cum ooze out of his boxers and drip down onto your panties. So sticky…and it felt so good…you wished he hadn’t wasted another load outside of you. Nothing felt better than squeezing every last drop out of him when he was balls deep. You went limp underneath him and tried to catch your breath. He collapsed on top of you with nearly his entire weight. You didn’t have the strength to push him away from you…and you didn’t want to. Instead you cuddled him closer to you. Your tangled limbs made it impossible for you to tell where he ended and you began. “Peter," you finally murmured. He shifted to let you know he heard you, but made no move to leave. “Peter?” He turned his head so he could speak but no sound came out. He was too busy purring and snuggling against your sweat-soaked skin. You saw the tip of his tongue poke out a few times so he could lick a stripe clean, smacking his lips together afterwards. “Mmm…” He snuggled up to your breasts, inhaling pointedly.  “We talked about proposing during sex.” He laughed lightly. “I’ll stop asking when you stop saying no. Besides, you love me~ ” Touché. You stroked the crown of his head lightly. His eyes drooped in relaxation as his entire body went lax against you. “Just tell me: is the marriage license application hidden somewhere in this room?” “Why? You wanna sign it~?” “I knew it! You already have one ready to go! Get off me! I’m finding it right now so I can shred it!” He rolled off you with a chuckle. You sat up and tried to stand but your legs were useless and crumpled underneath your weight. You resorted to getting on your hands and knees. You zeroed in on a folder tucked away in the nearest bookshelf. You ripped it open and was shocked to see that it was in fact inside. The document was filled out in its entirety save for your signature. “I’m taking this–ah!” Peter’s hand curled around your ankle and he yanked you backwards. You collapsed onto your stomach and spared a glance behind you. The blood drained from your face when you saw his eyes glitter with mischief as he started a slow crawl toward you. “My love…do you think I only have one copy?” You should’ve known.

"Afternoon Myltiades." Corsiva smiled at the casually dressed King. "Good afternoon Corsiva." He greeted her back, fixing the vest over his shirt aggressively. She looked away with a muffled snigger as his button kept popping off on his chest. The two sat on a long red bench, waiting for the bus to come. There wasn't anyone around, and Corsiva was glad that there were no persistent humans so far. Myltiades had grumbled over the phone about the amount of people taking pictures and wanting to speak with him. She had proudly shown him how to do a FeatureTime call, and she had diligently inspected his technique of using a watering can on his bright flowers, teasing his form. The sound of the bus rolling to a stop had them standing up. It was much bigger than the human buses that were portrayed in movies, as this was modified to be able to fit in larger monsters. Currently, they were on their way to the Armour sect. Myltiades had offered her to accompany him to assist with the construction, her gravity magic being incredibly useful for carrying heavy materials. Thankfully, the ride was a quiet one, the only other monster on the bus was the driver, who easily ignored their presence. Temporary construction fences walled the area, an array of sounds escaping, and Corsiva slipped in with Myltiades. Already, there were houses and shops built, taller buildings that reached for the sky peppered the land, most likely going to be apartments or enterprises. "Your Majesty!" A rough voice called out, a bear monster wearing a bright orange safety vest stumbled to the two Boss Monsters. "Ah Basil," Myltiades warmly shook his furred hand, "how goes it? Anything for us to do?" "Well, my King…" Basil scratched a rounded ear, "we still have foundations to build, and there's some houses which need to be bricked and rendered with cement, we also still have to install plumbing and electricity…" "Looks like we have our work cut out for us." Corsiva chuckled. It was a good thing she wore more expendable clothing today, an old black coat and pants that were definitely going to get dirty, either with paint or concrete. "Captain is already helping out with the more sizeable buildings, but she's been going for hours now—I think she wouldn't mind some help," sighed Basil, he was grateful because of their progress, but the fish monster was refusing to stop. Angel knows the amount of stamina the Captain of the Royal Guard had. "I'll relieve her." Corsiva nodded, "she never knows when to rest." "Then, I'll help with the foundations," Myltiades followed Basil as they left, the bear monster giving final directions for Corsiva to pursue. She made her way past the busy monsters. Instructions were shouted and some were on their lunch breaks, she noticed a line forming and with her height she could see that it lead to a dark blue food truck. A fire elemental with pink flames was manning the vehicle, and though she had not seen them before, it was undoubtably a Grillby. Considering that she had met him from the Tale, Fell, and Svelte Clans, he was most likely from either the Swap or Swapfell Clans. Written on the side of his truck was the giant word 'FERVIS'', which was probably his name. The smell of burgers and fries was irresistible, and from the smoke escaping the truck she could tell it was made on the grill. She forced herself away from the temptation, walking with her back straight to a rather quiet building. The shadowed form of Captain Undyne the only living being in sight, her white tank top showcasing the numerous scars on her muscled body. "Captain," Corsiva started, and Undyne jolted, the multiple bags of cement on her shoulders wobbling dangerously. Corsiva was just about to help, but Undyne had already steadied herself. "General!" She tried to salute, and Corsiva smiled as all she got back was a clicking of her heels. "At ease," she waved, "and how many times have I told you, you don't need to call me that?" "At least over five hundred times, Ma'am!" Undyne cheekily smirked, though it was wiped off when Corsiva ruffled her bright red hair, the long braided ponytail swaying with the movement. "Well then. Name?" "I go by Amaya now, Ma'am!" "How long have you been working?" "For around four hours now, Ma'am!" "Go on break, that's an order," Corsiva rumbled, voice pitching lower with authority as she saw Amaya start to open her sharp toothed mouth to protest. Amaya blew on the strand of hair that covered her scarred eye, complaints already beginning to form on her tongue, as she pointedly shrugged her heavily laden shoulders. Corsiva's left eye flared an emerald green, a pinprick of pale yellow in the centre, her magic wrapping around the bags to lift them off gently. "And these go where?" Corsiva smiled smugly, as Amaya aimed at the striped drum mixer off to the side of the house. Corsiva only began to move when she stared at Amaya, the fish monster huffing and stomping away to lunch. Corsiva shook her head ruefully, using a claw tip covered with a black glove. She sliced open the cement bags to begin mixing in a ratio of cement, sand, and stone for concrete. Looking around, it was obvious that Amaya was in the process of using bricks to build the walls of the home, and as the foundations were already poured and set, the turning cement must be for another building. Her theory proved true as a rushing monster came over to grab the drum mixer, and Corsiva could only watch, bewildered as they scuttled away with surprising speed. So, she was left to piece the walls bricks by brick. With a trowel in hand, she was meticulously putting down mortar and bricks as the wall grew, making sure they were aligned correctly the entire way. She became lost in her work, her clothes becoming stained with mortar and dust from the ground. A fleeting look at the sun showed that it was still high in the sky, she was feeling a little sentimental, helping build a house from the ground up brought memories of the first few years Underground. The people began digging from what was now known as the Royal Castle, tents set up and doing their best to expand to try to fix the claustrophobia that came with being surrounded by earth. The first few months were so incredibly bleak, monsters Falling Down every week with new piles of dust showing up in every corner of the small cavern. They had lost the previous King, a strong leader and even stronger enemy for the humans. King Keoros' death was the catalyst for their Sealing, a betrayal on their side only further provoked matters. The rage she had felt as she remembered those twitching eyes. She absentmindedly spit to the side, cursing the human mage they had once trusted, one she had trusted. Her rampage was written in the history books as a loss of control on her LV, she only broke through it when the forest around her had been obliterated and she was wrapped in the comforting scent of Toriel's healing magic. Ah…Toriel. She missed her friend, missed the way she and her brother would always annoy her with bad puns, trying to get a laugh they knew would eventually burst. Missed the way her red eyes would light up at the earrings she would make for her, missed the way she PERSEVERED in the face of war and tragedy. Missed her kindness. Her brother always said that Corsiva was a crybaby, and she always retorted back that she was so old, and as she got older her tears came easier. Here she was tearing up again, she wiped the green liquid on the dry part of her gloves. Some important people were missing from her life, in many others too, but she was here, right now, standing in the sweltering sun in black clothes. And she felt silly, silly enough to grin alone and hide her expression in her arms. "General!" Corsiva whipped around to see Amaya again, she was waving wildly with one hand, the other clutching a pair of Nice Creams. "Here," Amaya sheepishly pulled on her left ear fin, a good chunk of it gone, "it may not be as hot as Hotland, but I got an extra." Corsiva delicately unwrapped the cold treat, it was a lovely yellow colour, and the cover said it was Crab Apple flavoured. She took a bite of it, ignoring the wince from Amaya, inside the wrapper held the flavor text. 'Are those fangs natural?' 'Indeed they are,' she thought happily as the magic dissolved in her mouth. "So, how are you, Amaya? Is the surface what you imagined?" "I'm good, and the surface is…strange." "Yes, the lack of war certainly had us unprepared." They both sat on slabs of stone shoved to one side, listening to the birds chirp and the work of machinery, it was peaceful. "How is your lover?" "Alphys is good. She goes by Atara now though." "I'll keep that in mind." "But yeah, we've decided to move into the apartments that hold the other clans of us. It's weird seeing yourself…but not." "…it's good that I do not seem to exist in the other clans then, or that I am simply dead." "Don't know how you could have been killed General, I know you could easily pummel some pesky mages!" "Hahaha! You have much faith in me when you weren't even born until the end of the War!" "Well, I could always trust my mother's stories!" Laughing together, the two chatted as they set about to work on covering a different building's brick wall in a mortar of fine sand and cement, rendering the wall. It was a rather relaxing moment between the two. Amaya's mother was a first-rate soldier, but she had passed in a cave-in later on, leaving her half-blind daughter in Gerson's care. So, Corsiva was well acquainted with the little shark growing up, and was considered the 'Cool and Badass Aunt' in Amaya's own words. She certainly spoiled the girl, giving her candy before dinner much to Gerson's nagging, and at little Amaya's insistence, teaching her the piano she was so proud of. "So, when's the wedding?" Leaned in Corsiva, snickering as she was punched with no ill intent. "I…I wanna settle down a bit, then…can," her sapphire scales bobbed with her throat, "can you…make our rings?" Corsiva gasped softly, placing a hand on a hard shoulder, "Undyne…I would be honoured." Corsiva was tearing up again, and Amaya brought the taller woman into a tight hug, it was a good thing that skeletons didn't need to breathe. "C'mon! We just have these boxes left to move and we're done for the day!" Amaya coaxed. Corsiva wetly sniffed, before her eye-light flared and boxes were levitating off the ground. Amaya muttered a 'cheater' under her breath, and Corsiva rolled her eyes before easily picking up two heavy boxes. Amaya plopped a much smaller box right on top, as if placing the finishing touch, like a sprig of parsley on top of soup, and they laughed together again. Corsiva held her chin in thought as she looked down at her phone, the bright screen showing a comprehensive map with a little red marker representing her. It even had street names and the current state of traffic! Right now, she was out exploring the metropolis, simply wandering around with the aid of her digital map. Visiting landmarks—besides the obvious, the Mountains—she was currently in the Fell City, and apparently it had one of the biggest shopping malls in the entire metropolis. And, she could certainly see why as she gazed at the…ginormous mix of buildings. She didn't know where to start, towering over the crowd of people going over the crosswalk as the light turned green. It was interesting to note that the traffic lights were modelled after the pre-existing human ones, she thought there would be blue and orange instead. She sucked in a breath as the automatic doors opened for her, it was as usual, mainly red, which seemed to be a theme for the Fell Clan. There was a butcher open in one corner, and she greedily stared at the glistening shelves of meat. (She'll come back later…wouldn't want the meat to spoil.) Food shops selling specific items, she eyed the drink with little jelly balls—there were a lot of options for customisation, but she continued walking. There was a cafe that was split with a deli, and another…selling sandwiches..she tried not to question it. There were plenty of clothing stores that she ignored, her eye-lights zeroed in on a jewellery shop and she stepped inside curiously. She bent down to analyse the gold rings behind the glass, some had jewels others not, but she immediately noticed the imperfections. A dent here, a crooked placement there, she rolled her eyes and hurried out before an attendant could seek to lighten her pockets. She saw beauty parlours, monsters already occupying swivelling seats, a perfumery which she steered clear of with a vengeance, a tobacconist that she was too wary to enter and so much more she felt overwhelmed. She didn't want to go any further, tracing her steps back—down and up escalators, she came to a supermarket and figured she could investigate what was offered. Grabbing a basket, she started from the fruit and vegetable section, picking up the shining strawberries in a little packet, she was awed at their colour, they looked like gleaming rubies. Cucumbers seemed to be on sale, though she wasn't worried about the price. There were plenty of strange produce, however, she tilted her head at the thing called a carambola, if she cut into it, it would look just like a star! She went through the aisles one by one, brands she didn't recognise being the most prominent theme for all of them. She stumbled to a stop in the dairy section, not artificial, not an imitation, but real milk. And the cheese. Oh she could have moaned at the sight, (maybe she did). Now here is where she began to have trouble. Squatting down to get a closer look, she was debating with herself on what to get. She knew she had to have goat cheese, the powerful urge to taste nostalgic food again was like a punch in the nonexistent gut. Back when she was younger, there was a stall in the day market, and the owner (she couldn't remember her face anymore) would always have her homemade, soft goat brie cheese with honey and figs for her and her brother. They would eat them with crackers, giggling as they hid under the stall from their parents. Somehow, they always found them, of course it was because of how loud Corsiva and her brother were. But Corsiva also wanted to get sheep milk cheese, her family had a few sheep growing up and she wanted to at least taste the nutty flavour of the cheese again. She also wanted cow's milk cheese, just for something to balance everything out. She…really wanted to eat cheese. "EXCUSE ME!" She looked up as she heard the familiar, but not voice. Seeing…Jupiter? No, it wasn't him. This skeleton didn't wear glasses, nor did he recognise her. "Yes?" She tried not to frown. Her cheese………….. "DO YOU NEED SOME HELP? YOU'VE BEEN SITTING IN THIS AISLE FOR A WHILE NOW…" She blinked incredulously, had she really been here that long? Or, perhaps this skeleton wanted to speak with her about the meeting taking place in his home, yes he was likely curious about the potential roommate. "I'm a bit decisive on what brand of cheese to get," she said. He didn't look like he worked here as he wasn't wearing a uniform. "OH! THIS BRAND IS PROBABLY THE BEST!" He pointed at the image of a sunflower, "NOT ONLY DO THEY DO CHEESE, BUT ALSO BUTTER AND YOGURT AS WELL. I FIND THEIR TASTE TO BE SUPERIOR TO THE OTHERS." She grabbed the goat, sheep, and cow milk cheese to put into her basket. Rising to her full height, she noticed the skeleton in front of her only came up to her sternal angle. Putting out a clawed hand to shake, she shooed away the suspicious thoughts that popped up. "My name is Corsiva," she introduced herself. "PAPYRUS, A PLEASURE," he strongly shook the appendage. "It's interesting, meeting you here." "YES! I WAS OUT SHOPPING AND NOTICED A SKELETON I HAD NEVER SEEN BEFORE," he had his own shopping basket filled to the brim with products, "I REALISED YOU MUST BE THE PERSON JUPITER INVITED." She chuckled wearily, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but…what were your reactions?" His face contorted into an uncomfortable expression for a second, and she sighed loudly at it. "Don't tell me, they—" "NO NO! The Reactions Were Fine! We're A Little…Cautious, But We're Interested In The Possibility Of You Staying!" He waved his hands frantically to calm her down, his basket bouncing awkwardly on his arm. "Well…if you're sure." "ENOUGH ABOUT THAT ISSUE! DO YOU NEED SOME HELP LOOKING AROUND?" He offered politely, and she happily accepted. They left the dairy section to go through the other aisles, Papyrus explaining the best brands and Corsiva nodding along. She skipped the meat section, wanting to go back to the butcher she first saw, which probably had better cuts and prices. "What…is this?" "OH, THOSE ARE GUMMY SNAKES! A TYPE OF CANDY." "I see…………." "HOW ARE YOU FINDING THE SURFACE?" "It's good, of course, there's some adjusting to do." "WELL, TAKE YOUR TIME! WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE SURFACE, THE SIZE WAS SO MUCH BIGGER THAN I EXPECTED. IT WAS QUITE OVERWHELMING!" "Indeed, I have seen maps from the internet and many things have become different." "WERE YOU NOT BORN IN THE UNDERGROUND?" Corsiva erupted into laughter, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds as she stopped in the middle of the tea aisle, Papyrus pausing to gawk at her. "Oh p-pardon me! It's just, I certainly don't look that young do I?" She grinned, eye-lights shining with mirth as Papyrus blushed a bright orange. "W-WELL, IT'S A BIT DIFFICULT TO TELL WITH SKELETONS—" She tittered, a hand on her cheek and sockets closing at his words. "I am much too old for such compliments!" "WELL YOU SURE LOOK GOOD FOR YOUR AGE! Whatever It Is…" They shared a laugh, moving forward after Corsiva had thrown in some lavender tea into her basket. "No, I was not born in the Underground. In fact, I have no idea where I was first brought into this world." "WHAT? HOW?!" "The maps sure couldn't tell me! My home was high in the mountains, but my family was always travelling around place to place." "SO YOU MUST'VE SEEN MANY THINGS THEN!" "Indeed I have. Perhaps if I stay in your home I can tell you about them!" Papyrus seemed like a good person, understandably curious, and his reactions to some of her answers were quite funny. He told her he was currently a security guard at the university his brother, Sans, worked at—the first skeleton she had seen in decades. "It must be quite convenient working in the same area as your brother," she mused. "AT TIMES IT IS," they walked to the checkout, a human manning the station, he let her go first as she had fewer things, "THOUGH THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I'VE FOUND HIM ASLEEP IN HIS OFFICE IS TOO MANY!" She began placing her items on the belt, "what subject does he teach?" "SOMETHING TO DO WITH ASTROPHYSICS." "Oh! That is to do with space, isn't it? My brother was quite interested in that area as well." "YES, AND HE USES HIS KNOWLEDGE TO CONSTANTLY PLAY HIS SHENANIGANS EVERYWHERE!" Corsiva laughed, turning to the cashier to confirm she wanted a bag, "a prankster, eh? He didn't seem like a jokester when I first met him." "HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY ONE OF HIS TERRIBLE PUNS?!" Papyrus said with bulging eyes (somehow?), his own groceries beginning to take up the belt divided by the bar he had placed. "He was very serious, though perhaps he was simply…too intimidated by me? He never said much during the meeting the delegation had quickly set up," she payed for her food with her card, easily carrying the two red bags in a single clawed hand. She waited for Papyrus to finish. "I wanted to speak with him, but my position was too important to leave for a chat," she sighed. "YOU CAN TALK TO HIM AT THE MEETING, AND IT WILL BE SUCCESSFUL, I JUST KNOW IT!" He cheered, pumping a red gloved fist in the air. "HERE!" He dug into his pocket, taking out a piece of paper she grabbed in confusion. "MY NUMBER! IT WOULD BE GOOD TO HAVE, JUST IN CASE." "Oh, yes, my thanks," she fumbled a little with it. "UNFORTUNATELY, I MUST LEAVE NOW, BUT I HOPE TO SEE YOU ON SUNDAY!" "Wait!" She instinctively grabbed the red scarf he wore to stop him, quickly letting him go with a gasp when she heard him choke. "O-oh goodness, I'm so sorry!" She fretted over his coughing. For some reason none of the bystanders reacted to his slouched form. "N-No, It's Alright," he rubbed a hand on his cervical vertebrae, waving a hand as she kept bowing in apology. "What Did You Want To Say?" "Do I need to bring a gift of any kind when I visit?" "Hhmm," he cupped his mandible at the question, "It Wouldn't Go Remiss, I Know Some Members Of The Household Who Would Appreciate It." Thanking him in relief, she watched as he jogged deeper into the mall, disappearing from view. She slapped a hand to her face, covering her sockets in embarrassment. Did she really just do that? Grabbing him as if he was a common soldier trying to get out of watch duty, her brother would have laughed himself sick. 'Forget that,' she thought, shaking it off, 'I need to find that butcher…..'

      "Do you want to try roleplay?" "Mmm," Chat Noir hums around her clit. He pulls his mouth back barely far enough to speak, his lips still brushing against her. In a low, teasing voice he says, "You want to be my master tonight? Order me around?" Marinette rolls her hips up, and he kisses her with an open mouth as she moves. "I'm thinking something like… what if you pretend I'm Ladybug?" Chat Noir stops moving his mouth and looks up at her with dark eyes, through his long pretty lashes. She holds his gaze, and he gives her one slow, thoughtful lick with a flat tongue. It makes her shiver with the sensation, and the new tension in the air. He says, "Are you sure you want that?" "Yes," she breathes. "…It could be hot." "It's just - she's somebody I know in real life?" Chat Noir says, propping himself up a little and kind of breaking the mood. "Wouldn't you feel weird?" "No," Marinette says, a little annoyed at the tone shift. And annoyed that he's pushing back on her suggestion, which she had been a little nervous to bring up anyways. She's slouched back over the arm of the couch in her third floor apartment, her slinky dress hiked up around her stomach, and her best panties on the floor. She'd only gone out for a casual happy hour, but she'd dressed up knowing Chat Noir would be waiting for her when she got back. He had been. And now there are two glasses of barely touched wine on the counter, and he is kneeling beside the couch with one of her legs slung over his shoulder, his chin wet. Almost exactly where she wants him. It might be perfect if they were, say, on a skyscraper. The real problem isn't that they're not on a skyscraper now, persay, it's that they never are. The problem is that the more Chat Noir creeps through the window to visit Marinette, the more she wants to touch him as Ladybug. And she means touch him, because Ladybug touches Chat Noir plenty - they play off each other physically, constantly. And she can't stop thinking about. Feeling him against her and knowing she can't do anything about it is teasing her to insanity. She's never had so much trouble keeping Ladybug separate from Marinette. She wants him to catch her out of free-fall and flip her right onto the ground and pin her there, bite her neck, and fuck her like he means it. She wants to push him into the wall and climb him. She wants to save him from the jaws of death and then bring him right back to the brink of it. And sometimes, the way he looks at her… the way his hand brands into her waist before he lets her go… he feels it too. She's pretty sure. Something left over from when he loved Ladybug. A souvenir he can't shake. She's almost sure of it - especially when he visits her right after Akuma attacks, slinking through Marinette's window, growling into her neck, pressing impatiently into any part of her body he can touch. Is he as frustrated as she is? She can't bring herself to make a move as Ladybug. Not when she could lose access as Marinette. It's not a fair trade. But maybe she can ask for this. He says, "Well, it's a little… weird? I mean, imagine if I asked you to pretend I was N… N - someone else YOU know, or like, someone you hang out with!" "Maybe if you asked really nicely, I'd be willing to hear you out," Marinette says playfully. "It never hurts to try something fun…" He's not pacified. "I don't know if I'd call that fun, I'm not exactly hoping you'll go out and have sex with other people!" "Well are you planning to have sex with Ladybug?" Marinette asks. (She meant to sound exasperated, but saying it out loud makes her a bit hopeful.) "NO, I'm -" "Then what's the harm?" Marinette says. "Does... that mean you're thinking about other people?" Chat Noir asks, with a note of confusion and more than a little dismay. "Marinette, listen, I know we haven't really said we're exclusive, but I guess I thought we -" "Hold on, no," Marinette says, interrupting him gently. She sits up so that she's leaning towards him on the edge of the couch, looking down at him crouched on the floor, her leg (which is still over his shoulder) bent against her body. She settles her hands like a gentle trap around his jaw and holds him there. She traces a thumb gently across his lips. Still sticky. "I don't think about other people," she assures him finally, teasing his pretty mouth with her thumb. He focuses his bright green eyes on hers. "I think about you. I can't stop thinking about you." She licks her lips and admits, "Sometimes I think about you, thinking about Ladybug." "Oh," Chat Noir whispers back, eyes wide and dark, trained on hers. "Really?" "Really." Marinette tries to look serious and composed while she feels her face stiffen in a blush. She leans down against her own leg to get closer to his face and asks, "Do you… ever think about you and Ladybug?" He blushes with her. "Marinette - " "Please tell me." His voice is rough. “I… are you sure you'll like the answer?” She hopes she will. “I don’t hear a no,” she says, and she runs her hands from his jaw down his neck, to the zipper at his collarbone. She pulls at the zipper, filling the silence. Chat Noir holds his breath as she reaches further down. She knows he likes to be teased, he likes the long hot moments where she's barely touching him. It's not her style, but she likes how it takes his breath away when she goes slow. She leans deeper against her leg to reach down his chest, her face nearly at his. She pulls the zipper slowly to his stomach. "Yes," he says carefully, speaking quietly to the intimate space between them. She doesn't think she's imagining the flush around his cheeks. “I’m attracted to her." Yes. It's like hearing for the first time that he wants her. Like the thrill the first time he really touched her. Leaving the zipper at his navel, she moves her leg off his shoulder and pushes him back gently. He follows her touch readily, sitting back on his heels, still between her legs. He still looks unsure, but she has a plan. She teases her hands against his bare clavicle, letting her fingers skirt underneath the loosened fabric of his suit. "So… do you think about her?" She runs her hands under his suit in full, over his shoulders. "Do you think about her getting under your suit like this?" "Mmm," he says, leaning into her touch. She leans in to kiss him, letting her fingernails run gently over his neck and back, loosening the suit and pushing it off his shoulders. "Chat," she said against his lips. "Do you touch yourself when you think about Ladybug?" "Christ, Marinette," he says, but it's halfway to a moan. "How can you ask me that." "I want to know," she says, moving her mouth down his jaw towards his ear. "Will you tell me?" "Ah… sometimes," he admits, as she scrapes her teeth along his earlobe. "Aah! Yes. I do." "How?" She encourages, low, playful, close to him. "How do you imagine her?" He swallows, hesitant again. She can feel his neck move. "Against a wall," he says, experimentally. She imagines it immediately - him pinning her against a wall after a fight, grinding up into her with desperate frustration as she wraps her legs around him to get closer to the hot movement. She sighs with the shock of pleasure from the image. "You're really into this?" He asks, but from the look on his face he can guess the answer. He runs his hands up her thighs, under her little dress. "Yes," Marinette says, putting some feeling into the word. To punctuate, she slips off the couch entirely to straddle Chat noir's knees on the floor, and guides one of his hands between her legs. "You're really wet," he says, giving her a grin that shows off his teeth and a little more of the confidence she's hoping for. "Mmm, then keep going," she says, wiggling her hips into his hand to encourage him. "And tell me more. What would you do to Ladybug?" Chat Noir palms gentle circles of pressure around her clit, and she moves her hips down into it. He knows how she likes it. "Okay," he says. "So I've got her against a wall." "Who do you have against a wall?" She asks, settling into a rhythm and grinding on his palm. It feels good. He gives her a teasing grin and says. "I have ladybug against a wall." "Mmm, hot, tell me about that." The hand she isn't sitting on slips up her side and over her stomach, resting below her navel, steadying her, giving her something else to push against. "Maybe I've got my whole body on her," he says. "Pinning her down." "Yes…" "I'm already hard. She can feel it. She's… begging me for it." Her pride makes her want to laugh, her arousal makes her want to moan. She imagines it. And she imagines him imagining it. He's right. She would beg for it, just to see the look on his face. Just to treat him. She grinds down harder on Chat Noir's hand. "She…" Chat Noir swallows. "She wants me. She asks me…" "Yes," His practiced hand is giving her the leverage she needs to rut against it just right with each roll of her hips, and she's taken over with the shivering thought that he wants Ladybug to want him. "What does she ask you," Marinette gasps, meeting his dark eyes. "She wants me to touch her," he says. He licks his lips and holds her gaze as she rides his hand. "She wants me to fuck her." "Do you - mm - do you fuck her," Marinette asks, working herself up. She might be able to come like this. "I -" "Chat, will you…" Marinette gestures with one of her hands, miming what she wants his fingers to do to her. He gets a glint in his eye that is never good news, and says, "I don't fuck her yet." Marinette lets out a frustrated hiss, grinding down harder into his open palm. He massages her opening but puts nothing inside her. It's not enough. "I would make her wait for it," he says, keeping his hand steady - for now. She moves faster, not trusting him to keep it there much longer. And he doesn't. He lets her grind down on him a couple more times and takes his hand away. He rests it wet against her thigh as she gyrates onto nothing, glaring at him. "I would tease her. Give her almost what she wants. Make her want me even more." It would work, she thinks, annoyed. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, she reaches down with her own hand. He catches her wrist, and then quickly finds her other wrist before she can make another move. "Not so fast," he says. "Don't you want to know what I would do with Ladybug?" "Maybe I've changed my mind," Marinette says, but she can practically feel her heartbeat between her legs. "She wouldn't like it either," Chat Noir says, with good humor. "She would hate it. I'd have to hold her hands, like this, if I wanted to take my time with her. "What if you didn't have time," Marinette says, sitting down on his thighs and wiggling her hips to tease him. "What if it was a long battle and your miraculous was about to run out?" "Then I'd tell her to recharge and meet me again," Chat Noir says. "I know one thing for sure, Ladybug's not getting a quickie from me. Come here." He maneuvers to grab her back and her legs, and lift her up princess style. Marinette lets him, sneaking her hand back under the zipper of his suit to feel up his chest. "Handsy," he admonishes her. "I have been teased and misused," she says. "I deserve a consolation prize." "You'll get one," he says, and he carries her through the hall to her bedroom. He lays her down gently on the bed, her head on a pillow, her hair carefully set aside so it doesn't pull. "Awfully gentle for a superhero," Marinette teases, although she let him do it. "Come on, toss me around a little. I won't break." "Ladybug gets thrown around plenty for my tastes," Chat Noir says. He ignores her request for action and instead crawls onto the bed to settle over her, propped up on all fours. "That's not how I'd treat her." "That's no fun," Marinette sighs, although she can't help but feel a little tender as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to her cheek. "Let's do what I want for a bit," he says, kissing her other cheek. "You started this. My turn." "Okay, your turn," Marinette says, as he presses another gentle kiss to her jaw. "But tell me more." "I don't know where to start," he says. "Tell me what you think of her body," Marinette says. She puts her hands on his stomach as he leans over her. He says "My god, Marinette." She runs her hands gently to his sides in response, careful to feel all of him. "Don't you think about her body?" She says. She can hear his interest in the uneven rhythm of his breath, and from this angle she can see what must be an erection under his suit. "Do you ever want to grab her ass?" "Yes… Okay," he chuckles. "She's gorgeous, of course. She's… I think about her legs. They're the longest legs I've ever seen." "Just her legs?" "Be patient, princess." He runs a hand through her hair, down the side of her face, until his fingers are at her chin. He tilts her head up and brings his lips close to hers, to say, "Ladybug's legs are worth the notice." He brushes a teasingly light kiss on her lips. "Consider her thighs," he continues, punctuating his speech with another short kiss. "You should see the way they melt into her hips." He moves to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Her hips could kill a man. I think it's happened to me. You should see her walk." He kisses slowly up her jaw. "The suit leaves… nothing to the imagination." Marinette sighs as he moves his mouth to her neck, just below her ear. The skin is sensitive and it makes her shiver. "I wish I could peel it off her," he whispers, and Marinette lets her hands clutch into his sides. "Finally, a little action," she teases him. He pulls back to look at her, licks his lips, and says, "You know what I think about?" "Tell me." "I think about what she'd be wearing underneath, if she detransformed. It would be whatever she put on beforehand, that's how it works." "What would she be wearing?" Marinette inches her hands lower down Chat Noir's stomach, towards the shadow of an erection she can see. He gives her a hot look but keeps talking. "First you should understand, she would already know that we were going to have sex," Chat Noir says. "She would have planned it out. And when she detransformed, she'd be wearing something she put on just for me." "Maybe she'd wear nothing," Marinette says, watching his eyes widen, "just to see the look on your face." She moves to put a hand on his cock, but before she can reach anything interesting, he says, "Um - time out. Hold on. Can we check in real fast?" She takes her hands off him. "Yes! Of course. Sorry. I… um," she stutters, trying to reign in her tongue to coherent speech. Finally, she gets out what she wants to say: "Is this okay?" She sets her hands politely on her own stomach. He has settled to one side of her, one hand propping his head up with his elbow on the bed. He puts his other hand over hers. "Yes - um - " he turns bright red, but keeps talking with determination. "I'm worried it's going to hurt your feelings if I keep talking about Ladybug." Marinette tries not to laugh at that, because she knows she can't really explain to him why it won't hurt her feelings. So instead she says, "That's a very sweet reason to stop having sex with me, but I really am having fun." He says, "Yes, but…" and trails off. She says, "I really like it." It makes her blush to continue, but she does. "You… saw how much I like it. I really thought you were going to make me cum by talking about fucking her." Chat Noir sucks in a breath, but is still formulating his thoughts and doesn't speak. "Is it something else?" She says, and it occurs to her to ask (embarrassingly late) - "Are you having fun?" He either laughs or groans, or both. "Yes," he says. "I - yes." He is close enough to her that when he leans his body forward, it presses against her side, and she can feel just how hard he is when he rolls his hips up into her. "I'm worried you're underestimating how much fun I'm having." "That is so hot," she whispers, and he rolls his erection into her side again. He is already rock hard, even though all he's been doing tonight is paying attention to her. "What if you don't think so once we're done?" He says. "I just want to make sure you know that I like being with you. I've been thinking about you a lot. I…" He trails off "We'll do a check in after this," Marinette says. "I'll still like it after. But I'll tell you then too." "Okay," he says, sounding a little relieved. "Yes. Thanks." "I really like that you're into it," she says, and he grins. "Time in?" "Time in." She wastes no time pressing a hand over his cock, and he moans appreciatively as she replaces the pressure of her hip with a moving palm. "So you've been having fun thinking about Ladybug?" she says. "God, yes," he says. "When you said she'd be naked -" "-maybe with just a bow, or a ribbon, something you could tear off her -" "Marinette, wow -" "You could cataclysm it - " "I'd tear it with my bare hands," he says. "Right - ah - right off her." Marinette squeezes his cock through his suit and he moans. "My god," he says. "I don't know what gave you this idea, but it's… Mmm, Marinette, tell me again that you're into this?" "You know I am," she said, running her hand teasingly over his balls and back to the shaft of his covered erection. "Tell me one more time." "I want you to fuck Ladybug," she murmurs, squeezing his cock again. "It's so hot that you want to fuck her." "Yes," he moans, and he rolls on top of her. She can't get a good grip on him as he does, so she pulls her hand free from between their bodies, and he grinds down into her stomach. "I want her so badly," he says, his voice low in her ear, his hips working his cock slowly against her. There's something in his voice that's really turning her on, but his cock is hitting her not quite low enough, and she clenches around nothing. "Ah - I would take anything from her. Anything she gave me. If she'd touch me - " "Do you want to know what I think she'd do to you, if she got her hands on you?" Chat Noir makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a moan. "Marinette, I don't know if I can handle what you think she'd do to me." "You'll handle it," Marinette says. She moves her hands to squeeze his ass, and then moves them up his sides to his chest and pushes him up from where he's got his teeth on her ear. They shift to sit up together, and Marinette begins taking off his suit in earnest. "You could tie me up," he says suddenly, and Marinette's eyes shoot to his - they've never talked about bondage before, but she pictures him wrapped in her yoyo and thinks it's not such a bad idea. "Next time," she says, her face hot. "This time you'll have to just promise to stay still." He laughs weakly as she peels off more of his suit. "Now do mine," she says once he's free. Her dress is still bunched up at the hips as she kneels on the bed. He has no trouble slipping his bare hands up her thighs, under the dress, and pulling the whole thing gently over her head. She's not wearing a bra. "Next time I'll wear something you can rip," she says. "God help me," he murmurs, and he pulls her right into his lap. She grinds down on his bare cock, slippery with excitement, and he kisses her with an open mouth. They move slowly together, Chat Noirs arms pressing Marinette tightly against him, his tongue sliding against hers. It's not a perfect position, but it feels good to be held. Marinette knows what she wants to do next, but stalls as she indulges in biting his lips. It's Chat noir who breaks the embrace first, pulling back to say, "So if I remember right, you were going to tell me what Ladybug would do to me?" "Mmm, yes," Marinette says, grinding down on him one last time before sitting up on her knees. "I see you can't be distracted, Chaton. I think she'd want you on your back." He follows instructions without a word and lays down next to her, naked except for the mask, bare cock stiff against his tight stomach, wet from touching her. He looks delicious. She could get this so easily, even as Ladybug. All she'd have to do was ask and he'd lie down for her - she wouldn't even have to say "Do you want to have sex?" She'd just say, "Strip and lie on your back", and he would. "You are gorgeous," she murmurs, and he grins. "Am I?" he says, pleased. "How gorgeous?" I don't think Ladybug would be able to resist," she says. "If she could see what I see, she wouldn't stop to say anything." That shuts him up. She moves to settle in between his legs, and grabs his cock. "Ah, Marinette…" "I'm sorry, who?" Marinette asks, meeting his eyes, her hand firm and still around him. He flushes. "Wow. Are you sure - " "Yes. Please," she says. "Ladybug." She pumps his cock firmly, once, twice. "Aah." "She'd be tempted to tease you," Marinette says, starting to stroke him in a slow rhythm. She's already smearing beads of precum down the head of his cock, he's so hot for it. "See how mad she could make you. But I think you'd be too pretty for it." "My god…" "She'd take one look at that face you make - that one - and she'd give you what you want." Marinette dips down and takes him in deep in her mouth, all at once. He groans, fists his bare hands in the bedspread, and actually rolls his hips up into her. It gags her a little, but she keeps her head steady, her tongue flat against him, one hand on the base of his shaft, and one on his balls. "Aaah, ahh, ahh," he pants, getting more vocal as she begins to move in a rhythm. She keeps her hands moving in the same rhythm as she takes her mouth back off him to say, "Ladybug would love the way you sound. She'd get hot just from sucking you off." Which was definitely true tonight. "She'd want to touch herself," Marinette says, continuing to tell him the truth. "But if she did that she'd have to take one of her hands off of you, and the tradeoff wouldn't be worth it." "Aahh - Fuck- " Chat Noir was rolling his hips up into her hands at this point. Maybe she should just finish him off like this. He might still fuck her later tonight, and she could be creative until then. He whines as she goes back down on him. "Can I -" he pants, reaching down to gently grab her hair. "Not to Ladybug," she says. His responding moan is such a pretty noise that she begins fucking him in earnest, her tongue flat against him and her head bobbing rhythmically while he fists his bare hands in the sheets. She works on him steadily, earning a handful of stuttered pleas and a long moan. "Marinette, stop," he gasps finally, eyes fluttering shut. "Marinette - AH, please, stop, okay…. Aaahh, Marinette…." She lifts her head and lets go of his cock, bracing her hands flat on the top of his thighs instead. "Everything okay?" she says, but she suspects she knows. He breathes for a long moment, before letting his eyes open gently to meet hers. "I was close. I don't want to come yet." "You've got plans?" She asks, teasing. "I want to fuck you," he says, and he somehow makes it sound romantic. "Do you mean you want to fuck Ladybug?" Marinette says. Chat Noir flushes bashfully but he says, "God yeah, I want to fuck Ladybug." He is so devastatingly pretty as he says it, reclined and propped up on his elbows, cock flushed and wet against his stomach, that she almost mounts him right then. Maybe she's not subtle, because he says, "Hold on though, I'm going to need a minute or it won't last very long. "Am I supposed to entertain myself?" Marinette teases. "Oh, princess," he says. "Ladybug doesn't have the patience for that, and tonight, I wouldn't expect any different from you." "Promises, promises," Marinette says. "how will you keep me busy?" "It involves another fantasy I've got," Chat Noir says. "Come here." He stays on his back, so she crawls over him so that her knees are on either side of his chest. He grabs her hips and runs his fingers lightly over them. She takes one of his hands and moves it between her legs. He chuckles and pushes the heel of his hand up into her clit, his fingers resting in her pubic hair. "Alright, I'm ready," she says. "Tell me." "Sometimes we don't have to detransform right away after a battle," he says, gently massaging her with one hand, while the other roams her thigh. "Even the really difficult ones, we sometimes have some time afterwards. If we don't use our powers until the end of the battle. Or sometimes we're lucky and don't need them at all. We're exhausted." She thinks she knows what he's talking about. The nights where they sit together, trying to convince each other to get up and go home but they are too tired to really motivate when there's no magical timer. "Sometimes she'll put her head on my shoulder. When she's stressed about something. And I think about how I could help her relax." Marinette can feel herself flush, she thinks she knows the exact night he's thinking about. They had been sitting together on a roof, and she'd been missing him even though he was right next to her - the way she did when she was ladybug, and wasn't allowed to touch him. She'd been thinking about touching him. Had he been thinking about touching her? She works her hips idly into his hand and watches him talk. "I like when she puts her head on my shoulder. I wonder if she'd lean on me more often. And sometimes I wonder if she'd say yes if I offered to eat her out." Had he been thinking about eating her out? "How would you ask?" she says. "I'd just…. ask, I guess," Chat Noir says. "In the fantasy." "Ask me," Marinette says. "Can I eat you out?" Chat Noir says, and he flips his wrist around so that his fingers can brush against her entrance while she grinds on his palm. "Would you let me?" "Mmm, yes, finally," she says. "That's hot," Chat noir sighed. "God that's hot. If she said yes… My god. I'd eat her out right there, right on the roof. Anything she wanted. Anything." "Eat me out, Chat noir. Please." He licks his lips and says "Ask me again." He circles her entrance with his fingers, dipping them into her just the barest bit. She tries to push down onto them but he moves his hand with her hips to keep the pressure light. "Please, Chat Noir. I want it. We're up on this rooftop…" his eyes flit to hers - "Help me relax. I need your help." His eyes are dark as he presses two fingers into her - she's wet enough that he can do this easily, she's been wet all night at this point. Chat Noir is always a tease in bed, but tonight has been so hot, she feels like she's been waiting for him for hours. She moans as he hooks his fingers in, the way she likes. Yes. He scoots further down beneath her, and she leans forwards as he does so that he can still reach her pussy with his fingers. Once he's underneath her, he guides her hips down with his free hand and sucks on her clit. The hot wet pressure makes her breath stutter. He moves his tongue. She imagines them on that roof. An exhilarating battle, the safe, intimate space after fighting where they sit together, happy they made it out alive… imagine if he just asked to eat her out, right there. Imagine the look on his face if she said yes. Chat Noir hits something good with his fingers at the same time as he moves his tongue, and she says, "There - there - yes -" as he searches for it again. He's putting everything he's got into this one, spending time on the buildup, using his tongue relentlessly and expressively. They've spent months learning each other, they've had fast passionate fucks and long slow lazy mornings. She can tell when he's putting his back into it, and he's sparing nothing tonight. He's sparing nothing for Ladybug. He curls his fingers and flicks his tongue against her and she sees stars. "Aaah! Fuu-huuu-huuuuuuck," she whines, and he hums around her in response. She tries not to grind down too hard, conscious that he has to breathe. "Keep going," she breathes. "Keep going." He does. "Ohh," she moans. She's not quite there yet, but if he can keep this up, she might be. She wonders if he's imagining they're on the roof as well. If he's picturing the same scene she is. She wishes he could tell her, she wants to hear him say it. But it's low on her list of priorities for his mouth. So she says, "I bet you would do this all night for Ladybug." Maybe that's a little bold. But Chat Noir hums deeply and doesn't change his rhythm one bit, so she continues. "She'd love it. She'd…" she breaks off to gasp as he hits a good angle with his tongue on her clit - he keeps moving on the same spot and she moans. "Like thah - that. There. She'd like that. Oh, Chat Noir." He begins to move faster, which she didn't anticipate, and she curls over him, her forearms braced on the bed. "Oh, Chat - oh, oh, keep going." Yes. She's almost there - Chat Noir's tongue moves relentlessly on her clit at the same angle that is driving her crazy, his fingers curled in just the right spot and moving as frantically as his tongue. She is going to come. "Keep - keep going, for the love of god keep g… keep going…" she manages. "Keep - Ahh - Ahh - Chaton!" He presses down harder on her clit as she comes, and she clenches down on his moving fingers as the orgasm pulses through her. His tongue slows but doesn't stop, massaging her clit at length as she shudders through the aftershocks. She tries not to crush him with her thighs (but she doesn't try that hard). It's a good orgasm - she's been so keyed up all night that the release is wholly satisfying, and Chat Noir doesn't stop moving his tongue until she finally sits up to move her oversensitive clit away from his mouth. She sits back straddling his chest, rocking a little so he can feel how wet she is. He's out of breath and looks very pleased with himself. She's pleased with him too. "Thank god I found you before Ladybug did," she murmurs, smiling to herself with the irony of the statement. "That makes you almost as lucky as she is," Chat Noir says with a smirk and a pair of bright green bedroom eyes. Marinette curls forward to catch his acidic lips with her own. He groans and reaches up to cup her cheeks with his hands. Marinette kisses him slowly, and a little unevenly as she scoots her body back so she doesn't have to bend as severely to reach his mouth. She stops, teasingly, when she can feel his erection gently brush against her. He runs his neatly manicured fingernails over her shoulders and lightly down her arm. She likes that she gets to see them, the sweet parts of him that are hidden under the suit. "Tell me again how you want to fuck ladybug," she says, leaning forward to seal her stomach to his, her breasts pressing down at the top of his chest. Chat Noir laughs softly and wraps his arms around her, pulling her body somehow closer into his. "Any way she wants." "Any way at all?" Anything." "On the floor?" "In a heartbeat." "Upside down?" "Yes, if she wants. She could hang me from the ceiling like a chandelier." "In the mud? In the rain?" "Gross - Yes - Anything. I'd get grass stains on my best suit for her." It makes Marinette feel powerful, and tender, to hear him say it. Chat Noir has always been easy with loving words. It used to be she couldn't get him to stop telling Ladybug how much he loved her. Now, years later, she wishes she could return the favor. But she's Marinette, so instead she asks, "How do you want it?" "After your mud idea? In the shower. Or the bath. We could take our time. I've got a nice bath at home, I would take her there." "You'd take her to your apartment?" Marinette has heard a little about his apartment. It sounds nice. She wishes she could see it. "My fantasy, my rules - she can come to my apartment. In fact, I insist she does, and I've set up bubbles and rose petals and candles - scented candles. And champagne. And music. And strawberries in a little dish." "Sounds nice," Marinette says. He looks at her fondly. "I'd set up candles for you," he says. "And roses. If you want." "I can't visit your apartment." "I'll set them up here. Leave a window unlocked for me sometime." "My shower's too small." "I guess we'll have to squeeze in close," he says. She smiles at him and he leans in to kiss her softly. "You big romantic," she says. "You make it easy," he says sweetly. "Want to hear about how I would fuck another woman?" It makes her laugh. "Cat-sonova," she says, and he laughs too. She can feel his chest shake beneath her. "Okay then, so you got her to your fancy bath," she says. "With all the rose petals and bath salts you can find." "And candles." "And candles. She probably loves it. I bet she'd be surprised by how sweet you are in bed." (She was surprised, the first time.) "Maybe," Chat Noir says. "But I think she'd let me be sweet. She'd let me-" he hesitates, flushing. Marinette, very interested, settles her body backwards just a bit - so just that much more of his cock is teasingly pressed against her. He takes a quick breath in, and concludes, "Aah - wash her. With bodywash. Or something she likes. I'd…" His bare hands begin to run gently up her back, and she shivers. She's lying fully pressed against him, straddling his hips so close to his erection that she can feel the head of it at the very apex of her thigh - so close to her center that all she'd need to do is shift to press down onto it. She's still slick from her orgasm, and if Chat Noir decided, he could grab her hips and slide right into her, right now. Easily. She thinks about it and aches with the potential, as he runs his hands gently over her shoulders, miming the way he would wash her if she gave him the chance. He can be so tender. He's too patient. She can feel his body flex beneath her as he runs his hands slowly down her back again, below her hips, over her ass, reaching the bottom of her cheeks where he's nearly grazing her pussy. He presses his hands in - practically kneading her ass and pulling at the sensitive parts of her - she clenches around nothing, his cock six inches too far away. "She'd want you desperately," Marinette says, breaking the silence. The way he's pushing on her ass is pressing her clit into his stomach. She wants him to move his hips. She wants him to grind into her. And she's never had his patience. She moves, deliberately, pushing herself back to rub over his cock. He groans, loudly, his fingers pressing into her ass, pushing her down over his cock, and pressing her clit into his skin. It feels amazing. It's not enough. "She's been thinking about you, but she's never gotten to touch you. That's like months of foreplay." She settles into a better position, and starts a slow rhythm of grinding her hips down onto him. He's looking at her with his mouth fallen gently open. "She would want you hard and fast." He shudders, his eyes fluttering shut, and he finally rolls his hips up into her as well. "And if I recall, you'd give her anything she asked for." "Anything," Chat Noir repeats, opening his eyes again. And with only that for warning, he flips her over so her back is on the duvet, one of his hands pinning down her wrist, the other on her waist. It takes her breath away. "Get a condom," she gasps, and he practically purrs. He lets go of her wrists and stretches to reach the drawer of her nightstand and follow her instructions. He settles in front of her spread legs and presses his fingers against her. "Chat Noir!" She hisses, to let him know she's done waiting. He laughs and grabs her hips instead. He scoots her against him in one motion, and then leans over her with one arm, using the other hand to guide himself into her. He watches her face as he pushes into her, heat in his eyes, and she moans loudly for him as he sinks all the way in. He can't look away. "Yes," she says encouragingly, savoring the stretch and the slow friction as he begins to rock into her. "Ah - yes." she catches his eyes again and he's watching her so intensely. It makes the friction better. It strikes her that he might be imagining she's ladybug - not that she's somebody else, but that she, Marinette, is really ladybug. He's imagining that they're the same person, and that it's ladybug who is really moaning around his cock. He moves his hand down to pay attention to her clit, which usually means he knows he won't last long and wants to make sure she comes. That might work for her - she feels seen and wanted in a way that's traveling straight to her clit, where Chat Noir's fingers are working. "Say her name," Marinette whispers, rolling her hips gently to meet his. "Ladybug," he says, flushed, looking straight in her eyes through his dark mask. Like he's saying her name. It sends a new wave of desire through her and she moans, keeping her eyes on his. The eye contact is intense. It's not what she pictured, when she considered asking for this - she thought he might fuck her from behind, or they might even do blindfolds, pretend they couldn't see each others secret identities. It brings a level of intimacy that takes her breath away and has her trying to buck her hips into his, while he holds her down with one hand to get a better purchase on her clit with the other. But she can't stop moving. She wants to give this to him. She wants him to take it. She wants to tell him. "I want this," she says as he fucks her. "I- I've wanted you." It's as close to the truth as she can tell him. "For so long." "Ladybug," he says again, and it's a moan this time. "Oh god." He drives into her harder, angling his hips and matching pace with his thumb on her clit. She hisses. It's good. He's good. "Chat Noir - " "Ladybug, god, Ladybug," he moans again, leaning forward to fuck her right into the mattress. She clenches around him in a rush of heat. "You're so - you feel so - oh god - " He keeps talking, in moans and breaths, like now that he's started he can't stop. She's surprised to realize she's almost there - and good thing, his thumb on her clit is getting sloppy, she's going to have to come fast or he'll be too distracted to take care of her before his own orgasm. And she is really getting off on how he sounds. "Yes," she says as he babbles, "Yes - Please - it's good, you're doing so good…" "Ladybug," he says again, deeply, desperately. Looking at her like he's searching for something. "I- I- Ladybug…" "There," he moves his thumb on her faster, harder - sometimes hitting her right there - "Ladybug," "Ah - Cha- A-ah!" faster, harder - she fists her hands in his hair - "Ladybug, Lady- My lady, oh fuck," he says, with emotion, and she crests into orgasm. He fucks her through it, powerfully, which makes her want to scream. "A-ah, Fuck, Cha- at Noir," she stutters out instead, rolling against his distracted fingers to wring the last waves of orgasm out of herself. Her Chat Noir. He wants her as badly as she wants him. "Chat Noir," she says again. She crosses her legs around his back and clings to him, letting her nails dig at his skin, like if she lets go she'll never see him again. "Chaton... Chaton." He comes with a loud, stuttering moan as she calls him, like he's been hanging on by a thread. "Chat Noir," she says again, and he practically whimpers, curling into her, clinging to her, body tensed. He comes for a long time, face buried in her neck, panting. She runs her hands roughly through his hair until he's relaxed, his full weight on top of her. They stay there for a long moment, laying together with Chat Noir tucked in Marinette's arms, his breath against her clavicle. After letting the moment rest, she finally says, "That was… amazing." She has to clear her throat. "I mean damn." Chat Noir half laughs and half groans into her neck. "That's an understatement," he says. "I think it's the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me." "You want that check in?" she says, grinning. "I still like that you're into it." Chat Noir doesn't say anything to that, and is silent long enough that Marinette says, "Chat Noir?" He mumbles into her neck. "Everything okay?" He lifts his head up and squeaks, "I might still be in love with Ladybug." She looks away fast, keeping a reaction off her face because she doesn't trust herself to give the right one. Chat Noir buries his face back into her neck. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I just want to be honest." She brings her hand back up to stroke Chat Noir's hair, feeling hot in the face. Is this good? Bad? Is she happy about it? What now? What next? What has she done to herself? "It's okay," she says. "thank you for telling me." He doesn't seem to know what to say to that, and they fall silent. It's a sour and confusing moment, when Marinette really just wants to enjoy the afterglow of what has to be the best sex she's ever had. Chat Noir is still in her arms. It doesn't feel casual. It hasn't felt casual in months. She knows they have to talk about it more, but she's scared. What's she supposed to say? That's okay, because it's me, and I want you to love me? After a minute, she gathers her courage and asks, "Do you still -" At the exact same time, Chat Noir lifts his head and says, "Marinette - " They pause, and Chat Noir asks her to go first. She fiddles nervously with the hair at the nape of his neck and asks, "Do you still want to… come over? Mess around?" "Yes," Chat Noir says, immediately. "Marinette, this doesn't change how I feel about you. And I'm not going to go after Ladybug. I probably shouldn't have even told you that, I panicked, and we were checking in, I wanted to be honest - this isn't what I want to say. What I mean is that I, you know, I like you very much. I…. I still… -" "It's okay," she says. She doesn't really know if it is, but he's stressing himself out. "No, it's not," he says. "I know we don't go on dates, per se, and we haven't really talked about… labels, or anything, but I feel really good about you. I've been wanting to talk about - to tell you - and it won't sound good now, but I don't think anything will sound good now, and I just want you to know - that I love you." Marinette stares at him. Of all the things he could have said. "I know that sounds cheap, this is bad timing, I didn't plan any of this, and I didn't - I didn't KNOW, that I still, I mean, because Ladybug and I don't… oh, please stop me," he said. "Marinette. Please say anything. This is mortifying." "I love you too," she says, and his eyes press shut in some emotion. It was easy to say. It's what she's been thinking all night, in a much more confusing, secret-identity ridden way. She didn't think she'd get to say it. He sighs deeply and kisses her jaw, pressing his lips to her skin and holding them there for a long, firm moment. "How can you say that," he murmurs. "How can you. After all of this." "I love you," she says again, and she turns her head to kiss his lips. She catches them slowly and sweetly in her own. The moment feels precious. He smells sweaty, musky, and like cologne and sex. His brilliant green eyes shine through his mask, and her heart swells as he brings his neatly manicured hand up to rest on her cheek. He swipes his thumb gently over her skin. "We'll figure it out," she says. "Just please also tell me if you fall in love with a third person." He laughs at that (half laugh, half groan), and tucks his face back into her neck again. "At this rate, who knows," he says. "I'm a loose canon. I had better just stay in your apartment at all times, to avoid meeting anybody else." "You can stay any time." "Are you going to kick me out when your friends come over?" "I don't know, maybe." "Can I stay tonight?" "Yes, please." Chat Noir nods, his hair tickling her cheek. She kisses his hair once, and again for good measure. "Can we do this again sometime?" She asks. "Yes," he says. "Definitely. Is that creepy? Am I a creep? Don't tell Ladybug." Marinette laughs. "I'm sure Ladybug would want you to have fun. Besides, how do you know she's not out there pretending she's having sex with Chat Noir?" "Marinette! You can't say things like that." Chat Noir says, but he's laughing. "You are one of a kind. I think you're the creep here." "As long as you're having fun, I'll take that title." "I'm having fun," he sighs. "You are too good to be true." "Oh yeah?" "You know," he says, "there was a moment, when we were... when I was in you, when I almost really convinced myself..." he trails off, but it's enough for Marinette to catch his meaning. Oh, what has she done to herself. "As long as you're fucking me like that, you can imagine whatever you want," Marinette says, like it doesn't matter to her. The smart thing to do would be to stop now. Never do this again. Find some other, sexier thing to roleplay, that doesn't endanger her secret identity. Chat Noir chuckles and nips lazily at her jaw. She's going to do this again immediately. Maybe within the hour. She'll figure out the rest as it happens.

The first really bad Avengers’ mission after Thanos’ defeat wasn’t even really an Avengers’ mission, and that was what made it terrible. If it had been an Avengers’ mission, if they’d gone out and handled it, saving some people and failing to save others, it would have made for a grim mission, but far from the worst. Sam was Pararescue: he was well-acquainted with the inescapable reality that you couldn’t save everyone. But at least they tried. This time, they hadn’t even gotten a chance to do that. The Avengers hadn’t been called out in time to do any damned good at all. Instead, they got called in for the aftermath of what the media was already calling the Mayfield Missouri Massacre: one of the Thanos and/or doomsday cults that kept springing up all over had attempted to recreate the Decimation in their small town, going after everyone who’d disappeared during the Decimation and then returned. They hadn’t entirely succeeded, thanks to local law enforcement, but they’d gotten far enough. The death toll was already in the dozens. “Gonna be honest here, Cap, I’m not really seeing what good the Avengers can do in this situation,” said Hope grimly as the team filed into the quinjet.  Privately, Sam agreed with her, especially since they were being called in now, hours after the killings had started and when most of the suspects had already been apprehended. It was horrible, obviously, but Missouri and the FBI had adequate resources to handle it. Instead of saying any of that, Sam went with the official story. “LEOs want help rooting out any remaining cult members, and they want it done fast. We can help with that.” “We could have helped more hours ago, when these killings started,” Wanda said as she strapped herself into her seat. “I just don’t understand why there are people out there who think they should recreate Thanos’ genocide, I truly don’t.” “We’re being called out for the optics,” Bruce said grimly. “If it was about being effective, this would have been a mission for Cap, Barnes, Hill, and Carter. Not sure the rest of us are much good on a manhunt.” “Yeah, well, you’ve just got me. Bucky, Hill, and Carter can’t be pulled out of their op right now, they’re off catching Nazis.” Sam wished like hell he’d been called in for that mission instead of this one. But apparently, he was too “high profile” for it, what with being Captain America and all.  “Let’s just do our best, okay?” said Rhodey as he started his pre-flight checks. “I wish we’d gotten called in on this earlier too, but we’ve just gotta work with the situation we have, not the situation we want.” The situation they had was a clusterfuck. Wild-eyed cultists who raved and shrieked obscenities at them, grieving families who begged them to bring their dead family members back, just like they had before, and local authorities who were variously resentful or in shock, or some combination of both…it was hard to know where to start, what to do. It wasn’t like Sam wasn’t used to getting somewhere after the bad shit had already happened: on Pararescue missions, sometimes he and Riley just hadn’t gotten there in time, through no fault of their own, and on secret Avenging missions, they’d often been scrambling to unfuck a fucked situation, or assist after some disaster. But this mission felt uniquely useless: the whole town of Mayfield needed a team of therapists and cult deprogrammers and counselors, and Sam and his team were not equipped for that. They were doing little good here other than being bait to round up the remaining Thanos cult members, who flung themselves at the Avengers with terrifying fervor, shouting things like the dead should stay dead! This is not the Kingdom Come! Demons, demons, all of you!  On their sweep through the town to round up any remaining cult members, things only got worse. They found bodies, too many of them. “This is a fucking nightmare,” said Scott, voice shaking, and Sam flinched to hear Scott of all people curse like that.  “Clear,” reported Wanda as she came back downstairs, blinking away tears.  “Alright,” said Sam. He rubbed her back in some attempt at comfort as she passed. “Tag it and let’s move on to the next house.”  It took every last mental and emotional reserve Sam had to get through the three days they spent in Mayfield. He drew on every bit of training and experience he had—as Pararescue, as a counselor, as an Avenger—and none of it was enough. This wasn’t a war, or a battle against killer robots or aliens, or even an op against the average group of criminal scumbags or terrorists: this was seemingly ordinary people, who’d committed atrocities, who’d actively undone the miracle of their loved ones and community members having come back to life. For the team’s sake, Sam swallowed down all his disgust and helplessness and rage. “One more quadrant to sweep, you guys,” said Sam, and while he couldn’t manage anything close to morale-boosting cheer, he at least sounded steady and encouraging enough. Scott certainly tried to rally. “Maybe we’ll find some kind of, I don’t know, artifact, or, or—alien thing, maybe that’s why—” “No,” said Wanda, the word dropping heavy as a boulder. “Their minds are clear of outside influence. These people did this of their own free will.” Before the despair and horror of that could really set in, Sam said, “And that’s why we gotta find all of them. C’mon.” Would Steve have handled this better? Would Natasha? Sam had no idea. He wished they were here anyway, and wished Bucky was too, because Bucky wouldn’t need Sam to keep it together, Bucky would be steady and strong through even this. Not because the horror wouldn’t touch him, because it would—Sam of all people knew that Bucky had a miracle of a soft heart—but because—because—Sam didn’t even know. He just wanted his partner here, he supposed, someone to share the load with, someone he didn’t have to be strong for. Get it the fuck together, Wilson, he told himself, and got back to work.  After three days, all the cult members were in custody, and the Avengers left Mayfield. Not that it was over yet: there were debriefs to deal with still, and press conferences. The optics were actually genuinely important, and not just to placate the media, and Sam was Captain America now. He couldn’t beg off. He had to go up there with the shield, in the uniform, and pretend like he didn’t want to just scream about how sick and wrong and unfair it all was. We undid the motherfucking apocalypse and you backwards, raving psychos are out there trying to reenact it? Fuck off. But that wasn’t the kind of shit Captain America said. No, Captain America was supposed to go out in front of the cameras, looking appropriately solemn and sober and grave, to tell people what had happened and why it wouldn’t happen again. Captain America had to give people hope and make them feel safe and encourage them to be better.  We don’t want copycats, Rhodey had said, with such total exhaustion that Sam knew Rhodey absolutely expected there to be copycats. Sam didn’t think there was any speech he could give that was rousing and solemn enough to prevent that. He went out there and tried anyway, thinking of Steve and his dumb, amazing ability to talk people into better versions of themselves.  “Steve would’ve been proud,” said Bruce afterwards, and Sam had the sudden urge to deck him, to scream.  Rhodey could tell, maybe, because he sent Sam home. “Go home, Sam. Take the week off. I’ll handle things here.” “That doesn’t seem fair, you were on this fuck-awful mission too,” said Sam. “Just—gimme a couple days, I can be back on duty—” Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Me and Bruce, we can handle things. This—this isn’t the first time, for us, with something like this. Go home, get some rest.” The possibility of the Mayfield Massacre being Sam’s first, of there being more, or worse—it was intolerable. Sam’s breath wanted to come faster, but he forced a controlled, slow inhale and exhale, and gave Rhodey his best I’m fine smile—not super successful, judging by Rhodey’s look of concern—then left as ordered. It was only when he was halfway up the steps to Natasha’s brownstone’s front door that he realized: he didn’t even know if Bucky was back yet, if his mission had gone okay. Surely someone at HQ would have told him if something had gone wrong, Sam reasoned to himself as he opened the door, surely Bucky was back by now, he had to be back by now, because if Sam had nothing but his own thoughts for company tonight, he’d— “Sam?” called out Bucky, voice muzzy and rough, as if he’d just woken up. “Yeah,” said Sam, and followed the sound of Bucky’s voice to the living room, where Bucky was already sitting up on the couch, hair a tousled mess and a couple day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks.  Bucky got one look at Sam and vaulted himself over the couch in a ludicrously graceful movement. Before Sam knew it, Bucky was hugging him, gentle like he was afraid Sam might be hurt, or maybe like he himself was. Sam tried to keep it together, tried to act like it was totally normal for them to do this, like this wasn’t because Sam probably looked like he was about to fall apart. “Your mission go okay?” he asked, struggling not to cling to Bucky’s broad shoulders. Keep it together, Wilson, have some chill. “You hurt?” “It was fine, and not anymore,” said Bucky, and Sam pulled back, because that was not a satisfactory answer. Sam examined Bucky for any signs of injury, but Bucky just reeled him back into his arms. “I slept it off, all healed up. I heard about your mission. Sam, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” Sam laughed, half-hysterical. “You shouldn’t be. We were useless out there, too fucking late to do any good. It was fucking awful, Bucky.” “Yeah, sounded like it. Still, I wish I’d been there,” said Bucky, low and sincere against Sam’s ear. “Are you okay?” Sam didn’t have any kind of answer to that question; it was both too small and too big. So he kissed Bucky instead. It wasn’t a good kiss: Sam was too damned desperate, and he’d caught Bucky by surprise, so mostly it was just a slightly painful mashing of their mouths together before Bucky pulled away, wide-eyed, because they didn’t do this. They kissed, sure, but not like this, not without invoking their benefits plan, not without some bit of sly, teasing foreplay. “Sam?” asked Bucky, his worried eyes intent on Sam. They were icy-waters troubled right now, big with concern. Even so, when Sam kissed him again, Bucky kissed back. Bucky tried to gentle Sam’s frantic and rough desperation with a softer, slower kind of kiss, but Sam didn’t want one of Bucky’s usual luxuriously paced make-out sessions right now. He wanted enough sensation to blot out the last five days, and he wanted it fast, now, before he had time to think about the godforsaken, newly re-Decimated town of Mayfield any more.  “I’ve just—I’ve just gotta stop thinking about it, I need—”  Sam chased Bucky’s mouth for a biting, deep kiss, and Bucky finally got with the program, meeting him with an almost savage ferocity, letting Sam turn their kisses hot and dirty. “Okay, okay,” said Bucky between kisses. His mouth was bruising against Sam’s lips, but his hands were still gentle where they gripped Sam’s jaw and waist. “I got you, Sam, I got you. C’mon,” he said, and guided Sam upstairs, to Sam’s bedroom. Bucky was not moving fast enough for Sam’s tastes, so when they got to Sam’s room, he crowded Bucky up against the wall, grinding against him, the heat and strength of him and his dirty kisses enough to start getting Sam hard, all Sam’s useless adrenaline finally being put to good use. After a few wet, open-mouthed kisses, Bucky pulled some judo trick and swapped their positions so Sam was the one up against the wall, and yes, that was what Sam needed, they could do this hard and fast, just like this. Sam yanked at Bucky’s shirt until he got the picture and took it off, while Sam kicked his shoes and pants off, and then he pulled Bucky close and closer still, until their hips were flush against each other. He gripped Bucky’s hips tight, tight enough to bruise, and kissed Bucky again, open-mouthed and wet, until they were both panting. “I’m not hurt and I’m not gonna break, you can stop being so damn gentle,” Sam said, because for all that Bucky’s mouth was giving Sam deep and devouring kisses, his hands were still so careful at Sam’s side and shoulder. “I wanna fucking feel it, come on, you can stand to leave some goddamn bruises.” He opened Bucky’s fly and palmed Bucky’s hardening cock, giving it one dragging, rough stroke, and Bucky gasped, but he pulled back too, catching Sam’s hands in his to stop him for a moment before dropping them. “Don’t ask me to be rough with you. I’ll give you what you need, Sam, but don’t ask me to be rough with you, please,” said Bucky, soft and hoarse, his breath still coming a little fast. “I don’t—that’s not a thing I wanna be, now that I’ve got a choice, especially not for this.” “Exactly what is it you think I need then, huh?” “You need to get the hell out of your head. And I don’t need to make this hurt to get you there.” Bucky placed his hand—his flesh hand, warm and broad—feather gentle against Sam’s throat, where he’d once nearly choked Sam, so long ago. Sam’s pulse pounded furiously against the light touch, the beat of his blood battering into every part of him with the desperate need to let out some of the ugly emotions roiling inside of him. “Think I’ve done enough hurting you.” “Yeah, probably,” Sam said carelessly. “And if I wanted it to be my turn?” The words came out harsh and vicious, crawling free like he’d turned over some heavy stone inside of himself to let out dark things that should never have seen the light. Bucky went totally still in that eerie way of his, only his eyes moving as he looked down and away, before he met Sam’s eyes again in a flash of slate blue. Sam wanted to claw his own damned skin off at the glint of fear he saw there, there and gone in a split second. Worse even than the fear was the despairing resignation that took its place, because that meant Bucky would let him. Bucky would hate it, but he would let Sam become the latest in a long, long line of people who’d hurt him, and Sam didn’t know if that was because Bucky thought he deserved it, or just because he thought Sam needed it that much. Both options made Sam feel like a fucking monster. “Shit, forget I said that,” said Sam, and let his head fall against the wall behind him with enough of a thunk to hurt just a little. The spark of pain cleared his head enough for shame to overtake his sickeningly urgent need to overwhelm all the noise in his head. “I didn’t mean it, fuck. I’m fucking every goddamn thing up today. You should go, I should—” “Sam, no, hey, it’s—it’s okay.” “It really isn’t! I’m sorry, I wouldn’t—fuck, I would not do that to you, okay? I swear I will never do that to you. You should go, Bucky, I’m obviously not fit for human company right now.” “I don’t think you should be alone either. So c’mon, I got you.” Bucky took Sam’s shoulders and tugged him gently away from the wall, maneuvering him towards the bed and pressing on his shoulders until Sam got the picture and sat down and Bucky sat down beside him. “You’ve had a really shitty week, and you need to stop thinking, I get it.” “Yeah, and I don’t need to inflict it on you. Seriously, I’ll be okay, I’ll—I’ll nurse some whiskey and watch some bad TV and it’ll be fine.” “I like to think I’m a better option than you drinking yourself blind,” said Bucky softly.  He turned Sam’s face towards his and kissed him, light and sweet. Sam kissed him back just as sweet, hoping Bucky read the apology in it, the promise: I know I was an asshole just now, but I’m never gonna be so big an asshole as to make you scared, not even for a second, not ever again.  “Let me take care of you,” murmured Bucky. “What else are friends for, right?” “Okay,” said Sam, after another kiss. “Yeah, okay. Go for it.” “Thank you,” said Bucky, like Sam was doing him a favor here. They finished undressing, more slowly now, and then Bucky directed Sam to lie down on his stomach. Sam did, and heard Bucky rummage around the night stand, heard the click of the lube opening. Sam’s cock had gone soft, but it stirred in interest again now, anticipatory goosebumps rising up and down his spine. Bucky must have noticed, because he swept one warm, broad hand up and down Sam’s back, his gun calluses catching pleasantly against the smooth skin. Then Sam felt the lukewarm, slick metal of Bucky’s fingers along the cleft of his ass, and fuck yes, Sam knew where this was going now. “Alright if I use this hand?” asked Bucky, his voice gone low and husky, one smooth metal finger already stroking up and down along Sam’s perineum, firm enough to make Sam shudder in pleasure. “About damn time,” Sam told him and spread his legs, because Bucky had always used his right hand before, to Sam’s mild disappointment. “Tell me if it hurts,” Bucky directed, and then he slid a lubed up finger in properly, the metal so much firmer and harder than his flesh fingers. Sam’s muscles went loose, and his cock began to fill in anticipation of being fucked, the friction of the sheets against him turning pleasantly maddening.  Bucky lay down beside Sam as he fingered him, and while Sam’s head was turned in the other direction, he felt the warmth of Bucky’s bare skin along his side, felt the heat of his even breaths, as he fingered Sam with slow diligence. It felt good, of course it felt good, especially with the slick and unyielding fullness of Bucky’s vibranium fingers, but goddamn Bucky and his patience, Sam wanted a thorough deep dicking here, not a lazy, Sunday morning kind of fuck. “The last time you fucked me was last week, you can stand to move this along a little, Barnes, I can take it,” said Sam, and pushed his ass up against Bucky’s fingers. Instead of the playful nip or light swat to the ass he usually got when he was being pushy, Bucky just hummed and pressed a hot, lingering kiss to the nape of Sam’s neck, and slid another finger inside of him. Sam groaned at the stretch, and tilted his hips to urge Bucky’s fingers deeper, deep enough to brush against the sweet spot of his prostate. “That’s not what this is about. You wanted out of your head, Sam? I’ll get you there,” he said, and proceeded to prove that while he refused to be rough with Sam, that didn’t mean he wasn’t more than willing to drive Sam fucking crazy. Fuck Bucky’s relentless goddamn patience, Sam thought hazily, as Bucky’s vibranium fingers fucked into Sam, two fingers for seemingly ever, then three, their smooth and steady motion better than any plug or dildo, each deeper thrust lighting Sam up. His cock was painfully hard now, and Sam had to clench his hands in the sheets to keep from touching himself, from finishing this off too damn soon, though at this rate, just rutting against the sheets would be enough to get him off, like he was some horny teenager having a wet dream. “I can feel it, you know,” said Bucky, right against Sam’s ear, and Sam shivered. “Can feel how hot you are, how tight. Does it feel good? I can switch hands, if you want.” “Don’t you fucking dare, just—harder, faster, c’mon—”  Sam spread his legs wider, tilted his hips for a better angle, and Bucky got the picture, and finally those smooth fingers properly stroked up inside Sam just the right way, each touch sending a lightning-flash spasm of overwhelming sensation through him. Sam was reduced to babbling and moaning, needing more or less, or he didn’t know what, but the pace of Bucky’s fingers stayed steady and unflagging as Sam’s rutted wildly against his fingers, against the sheets, until all the stimulation finally became too much and he came, clenching around Bucky’s fingers and spilling onto the sheets under him. He was faintly aware of Bucky’s warm lips kissing down along the notches of his spine as he pulled his fingers free, and then Bucky turned him over gently, out of the wet spot. Sam looked up at him, still dazed and shaky from his orgasm. There was Bucky’s focus again, so rapt and fierce and total that Sam had to close his eyes, all his skin flushing hot. He heard the crinkle and tear of a condom wrapper though, and opened his eyes to see Bucky leaning over him, positioning him for a good-old fashioned missionary fuck. “Bucky, fuck, I—” “Ssshhh,” Bucky soothed, and kissed him, slow and dirty and thorough, until he was breathless. “You said you wanted to feel it.” He slid inside Sam and it was too much too much too much, but so good, the stretch and fullness were so impossibly good. Sam fought for some sense through all the feeling, scrabbled for a mental grip. “We’re not all super soldiers,” he gasped. “I’m not gonna be able to come again, asshole—” Bucky shut him up with a kiss and a deep thrust that had Sam moaning into his mouth. “That’s okay. It feels good, right? And you said you could take it.” The bastard was barely out of breath, fucking Sam slow and thorough, like he could do it all goddamn night. Sam wrapped his legs around him and held on. “Yeah,” said Sam, and summoned up some bravado before Bucky’s cock slammed in again. “I can take it for as long as you can last.” Usually, that would have been a cue for Bucky to grin, wicked and sharp, before he set about proving Sam delightfully wrong. This time though, Bucky cupped Sam’s cheek with his hand and kissed him again, his eyes never leaving Sam’s. “I know,” he said, and Sam had just enough sense to wonder what the fuck he’d gotten himself into before he wasn’t thinking of much at all beyond the impossibly too good, too much overstimulation of being fucked after already coming. It wasn’t just Bucky’s cock that was almost too much right now, it was his focus, his dark eyes fixed unerringly on Sam. Sam wondered just what the hell it was he was seeing in Sam right now, but then he wasn’t wondering much at all, too lost in the rhythm of Bucky’s movement. His muscles felt warm and liquid, and he was getting hard again, maybe, need building up with each of Bucky’s thrusts. He didn’t know how long it went on for, when tears had built up in his eyes, when he’d started making these desperate moans, when he’d stopped being able to keep his eyes off Bucky, who had worked up a sheen of sweat by now, and who looked beautiful like this, flushed and unguarded, intent and wholly present even though he had to be desperate to come by now. Would Bucky be like this with anyone, Sam wondered. Would any random hookup off the street get all this sweetly overwhelming attention, was Bucky looking for something he wasn’t finding in Sam? Or was this just for Sam, just for now, because Bucky thought Sam needed it? Through the aching fog of sensation, Sam let himself look at Bucky and let himself be seen. There was fear, for a moment, all the awfulness of the last week rushing back in, and Sam was certain Bucky could see it, could see all the ways Sam didn’t live up to Steve’s legacy, to the demands of this new world. But then Bucky sank in deep, deep, almost unbearably deep, and rested his forehead against Sam’s. “Sam, let go, sweetheart,” said Bucky eventually. “Please.” And fuck, but it always that please, its total sincerity and raw openness, and Sam was gone, shaking with an impossible release. Bucky kissed him, after, long and slow and searing, as Sam came down, a feather-light landing on steady and solid ground. He drifted off for a moment, maybe, and came aware again to Bucky’s arms around him. He blinked bleary eyes open to look at him, and swallowed hard at the softness he saw there, the tender curve of his mouth. “Alright, Sam?” “Yeah,” he said, and laid his head against Bucky’s chest, exhausted and gloriously empty, swept clean by the hurricane-force gale of Bucky’s attention. “Thanks,” he managed, and then he was asleep. When Sam woke up, he woke sluggish and slow, a vaguely hungover, fuzzy pressure lingering in his head. His body ached, wrung-out—something almost like the relief and weakness after a fever broke. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant: some of it was the ache of having been well-fucked, the release of multiple orgasms in a shorter time than Sam had managed since he was a horny teenager. The rest was just plain release: the release of tension, the release of all the ugly feelings that had been roiling inside of him. Sam, let go, sweetheart. Please, Bucky had asked, fucking him so slow it had ached, and Sam hadn’t been able to fight it. He’d let go, and Bucky had seen it, and he’d still kissed Sam afterwards, deep and sweet, something like gratitude in it. Sam didn’t know how he was going to face Bucky this morning, after that. He opened his eyes, and found he didn’t have to: the other side of the bed was empty, except for a note in Bucky’s stupidly immaculate, old-fashioned handwriting. Fury called with a mission for me. Be back in a few days. -JBB   Why Bucky signed the note, Sam didn’t know: Sam wasn’t living with anyone else, much less sharing a bed with them. His annoyance was distant and half-hearted though. Instead Sam was caught between relief and a sinking feeling of wrongness that Bucky wasn’t here, that they wouldn’t have a chance to talk about last night, about whether Bucky was okay with what had gone down, because whatever last night had been, it hadn’t been casual fuck buddies sex. Sam worried it had just been bad decisions sex. If Bucky thought so, his terse note didn’t give much away, though Sam supposed it was a good sign that he’d bothered to leave a note at all.  Sam sighed, and the furious, helpless misery of the last few days swept over him again. The urge to just stay in bed was strong, but when he rolled over, he caught sight of the shield, resting against the bedroom wall. Too late to use it to help those people in Missouri, if it even could have helped. But the people still here today might need to see it, and there was work to be done still, to make sure some other Thanos cult didn’t rise up and recreate the Decimation on their own. Steve had always said you always get back up. That’s what my Ma taught me.  So Sam got up. Whatever mission Fury had sent Bucky on, it was a short one. He was back in a couple of days, none the worse for wear, though he didn’t have a hug for Sam this time. Which was fine, normal. Sam had no reason to feel disappointed by that.  “Everything go okay?” Sam asked him when he returned to the Tower, and Bucky nodded, giving him a small, close-mouthed smile. “Fine. Just a bit of follow-up from my op with Carter and Hill. I gotta go debrief, see you later.” The short, wholly professional conversation didn’t quite sit right with Sam, but then, Bucky was usually a lot more reserved on the job. When Sam swung by Bucky’s tiny office at the end of the day—little more than a supply closet with a desk and computer shoved in, and an inbox and outbox stuffed full of classified reports—intending to pick him up so they could head home together, Bucky shook his head apologetically, still typing away. “Gotta catch up on this paperwork, sorry. You go on ahead, I’ll be home later.” Sam wasn’t sure what time Bucky ended up getting back home, but it was after Sam went to bed. Was Bucky avoiding him? Don’t be ridiculous, Wilson, he’s just got a job.  The next morning, Sam bit the bullet and brought up the other night. “Thanks again for the other night. Really going above and beyond with the exceptional benefits,” he said, trying to keep it light. Sam thought he saw Bucky go still and tense, but then he blinked and Bucky was as relaxed as he usually was. Bucky didn’t look up from his coffee, but his lips moved into a smile.  “No problem. Happy to help.” The words and light tone were right, but something was off. “We’re good, right?” asked Sam. Bucky’s eyes flicked up to meet his, then away. “Of course.” Things were a little weird, after that. Not actively bad, but weird, a distance in Bucky that made Sam uneasy. He smiled less often, spent more time on his own. Bucky was entitled to his moods, Sam told himself, and for all that his recent missions had gone okay, they’d still been related to HYDRA. Maybe they’d brought up some bad memories. Maybe that was all this was. Either way, they were both too busy with work to worry over it too much.  They’d be back to baseline soon enough, hopefully. He worried a hell of a lot less about Bucky after he spotted him being flirted with by one of the analysts in the Avengers’ support staff bullpen. It was kind of cute, honestly, Bucky looking faintly bashful as the slim, sharp-suited analyst—what was his name, he usually handled the cryptographic stuff, had an amusing strong Minnesota accent…Jake, that was it—leaned in close. Although, thought Sam, Analyst Jake could stand to be a little more respectful of Bucky’s closely guarded personal space. “What was that about?” asked Sam after Bucky exchanged whatever paperwork with Jake he’d needed. “Oh, uh. He asked me out? For coffee? That’s—that’s a date, nowadays, right?” So Analyst Jake moved fast. Or maybe they’d been flirting for a while. That was fine, none of Sam’s business, though it was weird that Bucky hadn’t mentioned it. “Yeah, a casual one. Did you…say yes?” Bucky nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Um, yeah. It’s just coffee.” “Hey, I’m happy for you,” Sam told him, because he was. It seemed like a big step forwards for Bucky. “He’s cute, seems nice.” “Yeah, thanks.” Before Sam could grill Bucky any more about Analyst Jake, Hill came striding into the bullpen. “Barnes! We got that satellite imagery we were waiting on, c’mon, I need you to come take a look at it.” “Yes, ma’am,” Bucky told her, and left Sam with a quick, nervous grin. “See you at home?” “Sure, see you later.”  Rhodey was clearly on a mission to check on team morale, after the Mayfield Missouri Massacre. Sam tried not to be offended; sure, Sam had done his own morale-boosting rounds, and he thought he’d been pretty convincing with it, but he couldn’t blame Rhodey for checking in. At least he did it in what now passed for the Avengers’ mess hall/common area in the Tower, the open space that used to house Stark’s swanky lounge and balcony, now full of small tables and chairs and couches, with the wet bar repurposed into a small kitchen. If Sam really needed an exit strategy from this conversation, he could  always fling himself off the balcony for an impromptu flight. “Alright if I sit here?” asked Rhodey, as if Sam was gonna say no to him.  “Yeah, sure,” said Sam. “What’s up?” “Just thought I’d check in with you. About non-Avengers stuff for once. How’re you doing, Sam?” “Doing fine,” he said, and mentally rummaged for a topic of conversation that would convince Rhodey of that. Steve and Natasha were off-limits, obviously, and Sam did not want to talk about Bucky for reasons he wasn’t interested in examining, and if work wasn’t an option…Shit, Sam really didn’t have much else going on. Except… “The brownstone’s really coming along: painted the walls downstairs, got some nicer window treatments put up.” Rhodey, thankfully, went along with it. “Yeah? What color? I keep meaning to repaint to something other than boring white, but I never get around to it.” They went back and forth about home repairs and interior design for a bit, and Sam almost thought he’d get out of this conversation without any uncomfortable questions, when Rhodey’s morale boosting took an unexpected turn. “Hey, listen, you’re single, right?” “Uh…” Sam’s brain worked overtime, and his heart twinged with something like uncertainty. Why did Rhodey wanna know? “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said, and hoped it came out sounding casual and sure.  Having a fuck buddy roommate still counted as being single. Right?  “Don’t worry, I’m not coming on to you,” said Rhodey dryly, maybe mistaking Sam’s hesitation for something else. “It’s just, I’ve got this cousin, Naomi, and I think you’d like her. And I think maybe you could use a social life outside of this superhero stuff?”  The suggestion was gentle and too-knowing, and Sam had to look away from Rhodey’s steady gaze, from the worry and concern there. “What makes you say that,” said Sam, in a tone too flat to make it a question. Which probably wasn’t helping his case any here. “I know we’ve got a lot going on, but as far as I can tell, you suit up as Cap, you do the work, and then you go home, and that’s it. I know you know that’s not sustainable.” “I do stuff other than just go home,” protested Sam. “I do stuff with Bucky. Social stuff.” They definitely did things other than Netflix and chill, after all. Shit, they’d gone ice skating before things got weird. Sure, they’d dared each other into it and ended up with nothing but hot chocolate and bruised asses to show for it, but the point was, they’d done something normal and sociable outside of the house. “Dating social stuff?” asked Rhodey, and Sam’s stomach dropped like he’d just taken a dive with his wing. “Listen, just tell me if I’m out of line here. But being Cap doesn’t mean you’ve gotta live like a monk the way Steve did. The shield doesn’t come with a vow of celibacy.” “Is there a Captain America blind dating service now? You ever try to set Steve up with someone, or is this a Sam Wilson’s dating life is just that tragic special?” Rhodey snorted, sad and fond. “Steve’s dating life was Natasha’s beat. I’m strictly a limited-time offer blind date matchmaker.” He pulled out his phone, showed Sam a photo of a striking, pretty black woman with a cute, dimpled smile and long box braids. “So how about it? Her name’s Naomi, she’s an architect, the Falcon’s always been her favorite Avenger, and she absolutely will not tell the tabloids anything about your date.” “Okay. Yeah, sure, why not. Might as well give this War Machine dating service a shot, now that I can’t just hit up Tinder.” “So how’d your coffee date with Analyst Jake go?” Though they hadn’t exactly been avoiding each other, Sam and Bucky’s schedules had been out of sync enough lately that it had been over a week since the last time they’d had a normal dinner at home together. Without the routine of swapping cooking duty, Sam had been living off takeout and frozen meals. A home-cooked meal was a welcome respite, especially when it was Bucky’s chicken and dumplings. If it also gave Sam a chance to get back to some kind of normal with Bucky, all the better. “Fine, I guess,” said Bucky, with a one-shouldered shrug. “He asked if we could blow each other in the coffee shop bathroom.” “Damn, aren’t we too old for that kinda shit? And in a coffee shop bathroom? That’s nasty.”  Sam was pretty appalled, honestly. Not just on account of how it was rude and unsanitary, though it was, but because Bucky deserved better than seedy bathroom blow jobs. Wasn’t it obvious he was the sort of guy who needed a little more care and consideration than that? He’d been all shy and sweet with Jake, what about that said ‘I’m down with you fucking my mouth in a public bathroom on our first date’? Maybe Sam needed to have a friendly chat with Analyst Jake. “Yeah, I, uh, politely declined. Not sure I’m ready for that. Or, um, into it at all, really.”  “You gonna see him again?” “Dunno. He said he’d text me,” said Bucky, his mouth tilting up into a wry, crooked smile. Sam reached across the table to give him a bracing pat on the shoulder. “Welcome to dating in the 21st century,” Sam told him, not without sympathy. He hesitated, but this was as good a segue as any, even if he did feel weird about telling Bucky about his upcoming blind date at all. It’d be worse still not to tell him though, probably. It had to be some kind of friends with benefits etiquette violation, right? Right. “Speaking of dating, Rhodey set me up on a blind date with his cousin.” “Yeah?” “For morale-boosting reasons, pretty much. He thinks I need a social life outside of this superhero stuff. I think I’m doing fine, but, you know. Might as well give it a shot, right?” “Sure,” said Bucky, eyes on his plate. “Hope you have a good time.” “Yeah, me too. You, uh, got any plans for the weekend?” “Nah, been a long couple of weeks, you know? I’m just gonna stay in, read some books.” Sam watched Bucky carefully as he chased a pea on his plate with his fork. He suspected the hair flopping over Bucky’s forehead hid a furrow of sadness on his brow.  “Hey, you doing okay? With your missions and everything?” Bucky went still for just a second or two, his eyes still downturned with their long, thick lashes covering any expression, before he looked up with a smile. And shit, had he learned that smile from Steve? Because it was the sad smile, the one that showed the lines around his eyes were as much from sorrow as they were from joy, and it was the same smile Steve had given Sam all those years ago when Sam had asked him what makes you happy?  “I’m doing fine,” said Bucky, soft and seemingly sincere. “Just tired, is all.” “You don’t have to keep me company if you wanna get some rest,” offered Sam, because usually after dinner, they hung out in the living room to watch something, or worked on fixing up some part of the house together. “And I can clean up down here.” “Thanks, Sam. Think I’ll take you up on that.” Bucky went upstairs then, and as good as dinner had been, it sat heavy in Sam’s stomach as he cleared the table and washed the dishes. He was missing something, he knew he was. Something had changed, after the last time they’d fucked, and he worried now that, sometime when he’d failed to pay attention, it had changed for the worse. “How do I look?” Sam asked Bucky, and did a full twirl for his appraisal. Bucky looked up from writing in his notebook with a smile. “Like you’re about to go on a really nice date. Good to see you’ve got something other than khakis and polos in your wardrobe, Wilson.” Sam crossed his arms and glowered at Bucky. It was tough to maintain the expression, because Bucky looked very soft and cozy in his blanket nest on the couch, but the slight to Sam’s fashion honor demanded it.  “I do not wear khakis and polos that often!” Bucky hummed dubiously. “If you say so. Blazer and slacks makes for a better look, is all I’m saying.” Bucky bit his lower lip and eyed Sam’s slacks with a gratifying flash of heat. “The slacks especially.” “Hell yeah,” crowed Sam. “Leg day is paying off!” “Yeah, yeah, go show ‘em off to your date,” said Bucky, turning his attention back to his notebook, and Sam studied him for a moment, looking for any telltale signs of sadness. Sam had been worrying about that sad smile of Bucky’s all week, but he seemed in decent spirits tonight. More calm and pensive than anything approaching happy, which maybe explained the notebook and whatever he was writing in it. The point was, he was fine, and there was no reason for Sam to linger here, looking at Bucky’s fluffy, tousled hair and his socked feet poking out from under the blanket. Sam was about to go on a nice date with a gorgeous woman in a fancy restaurant, and Bucky giving off strong huggable, comfy vibes was not a good reason to be late. “See you later,” said Sam, and saw Bucky’s hand briefly stop in its steady course across the page of his notebook, then he left. Sam was good at first dates.  Was that an arrogant thing to think about yourself? Sam wasn’t sure. But he was sure that he was good at first dates: good at drawing out interesting and fun conversation out of his date, good at making them feel comfortable, good at being flirty and attentive. And right now, he was doing all those things with Naomi, and doing them pretty well. But he was doing them all by rote, on autopilot, and he didn’t know why. Naomi was great: gorgeous and charming, with a generous dimpled smile and a truly lovely voice, sweet and almost musical. She was quick-witted and clever, and she hadn’t brought up the Captain America thing even once. And yet, despite all of that, Sam wasn’t feeling it. Here he was, eating an amazing meal with a great person, and all he could think of was Bucky’s hand holding a pen, and what exactly he’d been writing in that notebook of his, if he was still writing even now. As he ate his meal, Sam kept thinking that if Bucky were sitting across the table from him right now, he’d have been shamelessly stealing bites of food off Sam’s plate. But he wasn’t here, so instead Sam thought about how he should get an order of the restaurant’s hazelnut chocolate torte to go to take home to Bucky, and what the fuck. Get your head in the game, Wilson. Naomi set her fork down with a wry smile. “This isn’t working, is it,” she said. “Hey, no, I think it’s going okay,” Sam protested. “I’m really enjoying talking to you.” “We’re having a real nice dinner and conversation here, yeah, but—we’re both thinking of other people right now, aren’t we?” Sam wondered what gave him away, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. So he asked, “Who’re you thinking of?” “Did Jim tell you anything about me?” asked Naomi, before she took a nervous sip of wine. “I mean, beyond the basics.” “No, not really. There something I should know?” Naomi nodded. “I was one of the people who—went away, during the Blip.” She laughed at herself, took another sip of wine. “God, what am I saying, went away. Died, I mean.” “Me too,” said Sam, though she had to know that already.  “I was engaged, before it happened. And when I—when we all—came back, Micah had moved on. Found someone else,” said Naomi with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal, though it clearly was. “It’s not like I blame him, god, it was five years for him, I was dead, but...” Naomi’s voice trailed off, and she fidgeted with her wineglass. “You haven’t moved on.” “No. I haven’t,” she admitted. “It’d be one thing if it was a breakup, you know? It’d suck, but it happens, it’s—normal. You cry about it, you sing along to sad breakup albums, whatever, but—” Naomi sighed, took a swig of wine, and Sam topped off her glass. “Ceasing to exist for five years then coming back isn’t normal,” finished Sam. “Exactly. For me, it’s like, we were happy, we were engaged, things were going great, then bam! It’s five years later and it’s all over.” Naomi sighed, her eyes glittering with tears she blinked away. “It’s been hard, I guess, and my friends and family are a little worried about me. Hence the setting me up on blind dates.” “Yeah, Rhodey’s worried I haven’t got a life outside superheroing.” Naomi narrowed her eyes at him and hummed. “I spilled my sad story, what’s yours? Who are you wishing was here instead of me?” “I’m not—” “Bullshit,” scoffed Naomi, not unkindly. “You keep going somewhere else, in your head. Like, you’re working on a to-do list, but it’s not for errands, it’s for stuff that makes you go all—” Naomi wiggled her fingers vaguely. “Soft. So, c’mon, tell me.” “It’s not like that, I’m just thinking about my—roommate.”  He winced, took a big sip of his own wine. Of all the things to call Bucky, roommate somehow seemed like the least accurate, even though they did live together.  “Your roommate,” said Naomi slowly. “He’s my friend too, obviously,” added Sam. “And partner. You know, in the field. And we’ve, kinda, sorta, fooled around a little. Nothing serious, we both agreed it was just a friends with benefits thing. I’m not stepping out on him or anything, being here.” “But you’d rather be having this nice dinner with him.” “No! I mean, I was just thinking I should take him back some dessert, but that’s—we’re not dating.” Naomi got a worryingly innocent, curious expression on her face. “What kind of things do you do together?” Sam flushed, mortified, and Naomi added, “Oh my god, not sex things, I don’t need to know that, but, you know, apart from that.” “Just, normal things, you know. We switch off making dinner, we watch Netflix together—he’s still got a lot of pop culture to catch up on—uh, we go to the movies, do fun stuff around Brooklyn, go out to eat…we went ice skating a couple weeks ago, that was—” Sam stopped, looked at Naomi. She was resting her chin on her hand, an encouraging lift to her eyebrows, reminiscent of a teacher waiting for a student to arrive at a correct answer, and Sam just got it, in one mortifying, amazing flash of long-delayed insight. “Okay, I see what’s happening here. These are dates. I have just described a series of dates.” He put his face in his hands and Naomi laughed, sweet as a songbird. “Oh honey,” she said. “You really didn’t realize?” “It was just supposed to be a fuck buddies kinda thing! And I mean, we’re just friends, friends do stuff together—” Just friends, Sam was forced to admit to himself, did not do stuff together then go home together where they had excellent sex together before going to bed together and waking up together and making breakfast for each other, and right, yeah, Sam was a total fucking idiot.  He couldn’t even put this on Bucky—Sam was the one who’d come up with this friends with benefits idea in the first place, and Bucky had gone along with it, following Sam’s lead. If they weren’t already friends and partners, if they weren’t already living together, maybe they could have kept things casual. But they’d already been all tangled up in each other, Sam realized, long before Sam had made his dumb, amazing suggestion. Now Sam thought he understood why Bucky had pulled back, after that night when they’d both seen too much truth in each other. He’d realized what Sam hadn’t: that they were getting in too deep to keep things anything close to casual. “Hmm, yeah, no. I’ve had actual long-term relationships that didn’t involve so many date activities. And you live together. Sam, you have a boyfriend. You are in a relationship.” “I’m realizing that now, yeah.” Sam wasn’t mad about it, was the thing. Because it was a damned good relationship, even if it was accidental. He and Bucky had stumbled into something real, and Sam should’ve known it when Bucky had seen the ugly and scared and miserable parts of Sam, and had stayed. More than that, he’d held those ragged parts of Sam as gently and carefully as he held every other part of Sam. Or maybe Sam should’ve known it earlier still, when Bucky had trusted Sam to take care of him.  “You need more wine to deal with this epiphany?” asked Naomi, still smiling, but sympathetic about it now. “No. No, I think I’m good.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m sorry, Naomi, you deserve a better date than a dumbass who didn’t even realize he was already in a relationship.” “Hey, this was actually kind of fun for me. Plus, I can at least get bragging rights out of this. Not every girl gets to go on a date with Captain America.” She gestured for a waiter. “Now, get your man some dessert and go home to him, Sam.” Sam left Naomi with a kiss on the cheek and a box of the hazelnut torte to go. “I hope you find someone,” Sam told her on their way out of the restaurant, and she smiled up at him, dimples and all. She opened her mouth to answer him, but then the phone in her hand dinged. “Sorry, that must be my Lyft—” she said, looking down at her phone, and her face went soft with some complicated emotion. “Everything okay?”  “Yeah,” she said, eyes still fixed on her phone. “It’s Micah. He—he says he misses me, and he wants to talk.” The hope on her face made her shine, and maybe it was his light buzz or the high of his epiphany talking, but Sam knew: she and Micah were gonna be okay. Sam just had to hope that he and Bucky would be too. On his way back home, Sam considered and discarded about fifty different plans for sharing his epiphany with Bucky before he decided, fuck it, he’d wing it. Flying was just like falling, a lot of the time: you threw yourself into the air and hoped your wings would catch the right updraft to send you soaring, and Sam hadn’t failed yet. Although, he realized as he rushed inside Natasha’s brownstone, he was gonna feel pretty dumb if Bucky was already asleep. It was far from late, but Bucky might have gone to bed early, in which case Sam would just have to spend a likely sleepless night wondering how the hell he’d been such a dumbass about his relationship with Bucky. His phone’s lock screen was still that photo of Bucky with the goats, for fuck’s sake. Adorable goats or not, that was not a we’re just fuck buddies kind of move. Sam took his shoes and blazer off in the entry hallway, listening for any sign that Bucky was up. When he heard the low murmur of the TV from the direction of the living room, he sighed in relief. Bucky was awake then, probably still in his blanket nest on the couch where Sam had left him earlier tonight. Sam headed for the living room, takeout box of torte still in his hand. “Hey, you’re back kinda early,” said Bucky turning from the TV with a concerned frown. “Everything go okay?” Sam’s epiphany hadn’t changed anything about Bucky. He was still the same Bucky Sam had left a couple hours ago: sprawled on the couch with end-of-the-day stubble on his jaw and dumb, dimpled chin, wearing a gray sweater that Sam knew for a fact was soft to the touch and that did ridiculously striking things to his changeable eyes, turning them silvery blue. Everything about him still looked just as huggable and inviting as it had earlier. It was Sam who’d changed, Sam who understood what it meant that Bucky looked like home and comfort. Even if he’d lost the socks, Sam noted with fond exasperation. Bucky could never keep a damn pair of socks on in the house for more than an hour or so, no matter how cold his feet got. That was okay though. Sam would warm them up when they got under the covers.  Instead of answering Bucky’s question, Sam lingered in the living room entryway and said, “I brought you dessert. Hazelnut chocolate torte.” Bucky grinned, bright and sweet. “Really? Thanks, Sam, you didn’t have to.” “Saw it on the menu, thought you’d like it,” he said, and okay, great, winging it was going so well so far, he was definitely going to find a way to transition from ‘I brought you cake’ to ‘I’ve accidentally fallen for you.’ Bucky’s smile got deeper around his eyes, which didn’t help, what with how it made Sam maybe have some feelings.  Bucky didn’t notice Sam’s ever deepening romantic crisis, apparently. “Bring it here, we can share.” “Wow, James Buchanan Barnes is offering to share a dessert with me instead of hoarding it to himself like sugar is still being rationed?” Sam asked, like he wasn’t legitimately kind of touched that Bucky was offering to share. Sam joined Bucky on the couch and handed him the takeout box. Bucky took it, but his eyes stayed on Sam, keen and concerned. “I kinda feel like you might need it, if you came back from a date early with dessert for me.” “Nah, it was fine,” said Sam with a shrug. “Just—no spark, I guess. She was great, but neither of us was feeling it.” “That sucks, I’m sorry,” said Bucky, all earnest sympathy.  Here was Sam’s opening: all he had to say was, I wasn’t feeling it because I wanted to be at that fancy restaurant with you. Yeah, no, it surprised me too! But apparently, we are in a for real relationship, and I’d like to upgrade from friends with benefits to the whole package, so to speak, because I think I’m in love with you. Before he could say anything though, Bucky’s phone chimed, and he set the box of torte down on the coffee table and grabbed his phone, looking down at it with a frown. “Hey, does a text that says ‘you up? Eggplant emoji, winky face’ mean what I think it means?” Sam’s winging it flight plan underwent a swift and abrupt change of course.  “Is that Analyst Jake?” he demanded, and practically flung himself into Bucky’s lap, before snatching the phone still in Bucky’s hand and tossing it aside. “Forget about him, he’s clearly a fuckboy.” “Uh, Sam?”  Bucky’s brow was furrowed in confusion, all his attention concerned and intent on Sam’s face. His big hands settled lightly on Sam’s waist, thumbs stroking Sam’s hips in gentle circles, an act of easy,  automatic affection. How in the hell had Sam taken this shit for granted? Sam cupped Bucky’s face between his hands, and Bucky went still, only his lips moving to part in surprise. The temptation to kiss him was strong, but Sam had to do this right, he had to use his damn words. “The whole time I was on that date, I wanted to be home with you,” Sam confessed. Bucky’s eyes went wide.  He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Thought you said the date went fine?” “I wanted to be home with you, Bucky. Or I wanted you there with me. Because I fucked up with this whole friends with benefits thing, and I’m a dumbass who took way too long to realize that we’re straight up dating and that I’ve fallen for you. So. Let’s make it official.” “Oh,” said Bucky faintly, and Sam had a second to worry that this wasn’t going to go the way he hoped, before Bucky’s surprise shifted into the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen on his face, brighter even than his armful-of-adorable-baby-goats smile. Sam hadn’t thought anyone’s eyes could be this sparkly in real life, but with the front row, up close and personal view Sam had going right now, he had to admit they could, like sunshine sparkling on deep and pure water. “Yeah. Okay,” Bucky said, low and soft, rough with feeling. “Hey now, I make a big declaration and all I get out of you is a ‘yeah, okay’?” teased Sam, but gently, smiling so wide it was making his cheeks hurt.  He moved his hands to cup the back of Bucky’s head and bury his fingers in Bucky’s soft hair, intending to kiss the hell out of Bucky, but before he could, Bucky wrapped his arms around him and tucked his face against Sam’s neck. Bucky held on tight, as if he was no longer afraid of hurting Sam, or maybe as if he was no longer holding anything back, and okay, maybe Sam didn’t need Bucky to say anything else, not when he was getting what was probably the best hug of his life. “Sam, I—” started Bucky, his mouth hot and soft against the skin of Sam’s neck, but he didn’t say anything else, just pressed a kiss there.  “I know, baby,” said Sam, because he thought he understood Bucky’s language of touch by now, after so many months.  He’d been a slow learner about it, maybe, but he knew it now, all the care and tenderness Bucky had given him so freely, as if they weren’t hard-won and precious, as if he hadn’t needed to be brave to risk that kind of openness.  Bucky pulled back and kissed him then, and it was every sweet thing he hadn’t found the words to say, soft and wondering at first, almost like he was making sure this was real, then passionate and focused. Only once he’d left Sam properly breathless did Bucky find some words, as he leaned back with flushed cheeks and a crinkly-eyed smile. “You know, we can never tell anyone we’re such dumbasses that we’ve been dating for months without knowing it.”  Sam laughed, then he took a deep breath and gathered up every aching bit of hope in his heart. “Yeah, no, for sure. We absolutely cannot tell Natasha especially. She would literally never let us live it down, ever.” With spring, the garden Bucky had planted came up green and lovely, and he cared for it with a focus and dedication that bordered on desperate as the weeks and months stretched on with no sign of Steve and Natasha’s return. Sam didn’t blame him; his own hopes ebbed and surged by some clock far more fickle than the moon, but around the one-year anniversary of Steve getting in that quantum tunnel and not coming back, Sam started to get a feeling, a vibe. Something good was gonna happen, Sam was sure of it. Bucky was dubious when Sam told him so. “Got any basis for this feeling, sweetheart?” he asked, forehead smudged with dirt as he knelt in the soil to tend to his plants. “A prophetic dream, the planets aligning, a message from the birds, what?” Sam sipped his coffee and watched Bucky from the back patio doors they’d put in a few weeks earlier. He had a pretty good view going here, what with the garden in a profusion of blossoming growth, and Bucky, face pink from the sun and his work pants stretched tight over the muscles of his ass and thighs.  “It’s just a good feeling,” Sam said, and Bucky sighed, aimed a soft and crooked smile Sam’s way. “Well, I hope your good feeling will come to something,” he said, though Sam knew Bucky had adjusted his expectations by now, was trying to think in terms of years rather than months when it came to Steve and Natasha’s return. Steve waited on me to get my shit together and come back to him for years, Bucky had whispered one night in bed, when they were both up with 2 AM doubts and fears. I can wait however long it takes for him to do whatever he needs to do. I just miss him.  “Baby, my gut instincts are never wrong. Just you wait.” A year and a day after Steve went in the quantum tunnel, he came back with Natasha. Sam didn’t notice, at first: it was Bucky’s turn to cook that night, and Sam had put a record on—they were getting pretty good use out of Bucky’s Christmas present to Sam—so Bucky was humming along, a dancer’s rhythm in the way he moved as he cooked. He kept threatening to take Sam swing dancing for date night, and watching him now, Sam figured he ought to stop making dumb jokes about it and make it happen. “Shake it, baby,” Sam called out from the kitchen table, though “Stand by Me” wasn’t exactly the song for it. Bucky grinned at him from over his shoulder and duly gave Sam some hip action, before he stopped and turned back to whatever delicious-smelling curry he had bubbling away on the stove. “That’s all you’re gonna get, this isn’t a solo act. If you want some of this, you better come dance with me.” So Sam did, and Bucky held him close through a few slow steps, before the small space of the kitchen had Sam stepping on Bucky’s toes and Bucky laughing at him about it, at which point they gave up on dancing in favor of making out. Bucky still swayed to the music a little as they kissed, lazy and slow and thorough, a promise of hundreds more kisses in it. Sam was grateful all over again that they’d gotten their shit together and taken hold of this thing between them for real. And that was how Steve and Natasha found them. “I hate to interrupt such a pretty sight, boys, but I think that pot’s about to boil over,” said a husky, beloved voice from behind them. Sam and Bucky sprung apart, whirling towards it. And there they were: Steve and Natasha. They were both in battered and grimy versions of the awful quantum suit, but they both looked more or less like the Steve and Natasha Sam had last seen: Steve bearded again, and disheveled, but beaming in teary-eyed joy, and Natasha with her hair back to its natural red, making no move to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheek. They were happy tears at least, judging by the wide and dimpled smile on her glowing face. She and Steve were holding hands, leaning in close to each other, whether for sheer comfort or actual physical support, Sam couldn’t tell. He had to blink a few times, half-expecting Steve and Natasha to disappear, just like Old Steve had, but they didn’t.  “Steve?” said Bucky faintly, and a flash of pain rippled across Steve’s face before it was overtaken by joy again. “Yeah, Buck, it’s me. Sorry it took longer than five seconds, but I had someone to get back from the Soul Stone,” said Steve, throwing an arm around Natasha’s shoulders. Sam elbowed Bucky. “See, what’d I tell you? I had a good feeling.” That seemed to break their standoff of joyful disbelief, and Sam only barely had the presence of mind to turn the damned burner off before it was hugging time. Bucky flung himself at Steve, and Natasha practically ran to Sam to hold him tight. “You’re okay,” she said, voice thick with tears, and Sam almost asked her why wouldn’t I be before he remembered all over again: for her, it had been over five years since he’d died. “Alive and well, like Thanos never snapped his damn fingers,” Sam reassured her. “Thanks to you.” He looked at Steve over Natasha’s head. “Do I even wanna know how you got Natasha back?” “It’s a pretty crazy story,” said Steve, still holding on tightly to Bucky, who seemed pretty happy to be Steve’s super soldier-sized teddy bear. “And I only managed it thanks to you two.” “We didn’t really do anything though?” said Bucky. “Yeah, we got your message, and mostly we just moped around worrying about you two. And uh, did some work on your house, Nat. Hope you don’t mind.” Natasha squeezed him tightly, then went up on her tiptoes to kiss him on both of his cheeks, happier than he’d ever seen her despite the tears still in her eyes. “Are you kidding me, I love what you’ve done with the place,” she said. “I don’t mind at all.” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. “You two did a lot. You didn’t give up on me, Buck. You kept your promise, and—that’s all I needed. And Sam, you took up the shield. God, I don’t know how to explain, but—that mattered. You can’t know how much that mattered.” “Long story short, it’s Soul Stone bullshit, don’t worry about it,” said Natasha, and let him go, giving him a little shove towards Steve. “C’mon, swap, get over here, Barnes, we’re hugging.” Sam got a glimpse of Bucky gingerly hugging Natasha with a hilariously baffled look on his face, before Steve wrapped Sam up in a long, tight hug, no bro back slapping or careful distance involved. “We really missed you, Steve,” Sam told him, and Steve laughed tearily. “Seems like you two have been keeping each other company pretty well. That a recent development?” “Kinda. It’s—it’s good, Steve. It’s been real good. You’ve got real good taste in best friends, what can I say.” “Yeah,” Steve said softly. “I missed you both too.” “Was that your wrinkled old ass who dropped a shiny new shield off for me? ‘Cause if it wasn’t, you can have it back, you know.” “Nah,” said Steve, and released his hold on Sam enough for them to look at each other. Behind the relief and joy, Sam could see that Steve was exhausted, the lines on his forehead and around his mouth carved deeper still than when Sam had last seen them on that video message. “Can’t think of anyone better to carry the shield but you, Sam. I’m done fighting. You remember when you asked me what makes me happy, back when we first met?” “Yeah.” “I’m gonna work on figuring that out, now that I’m home. Now that we’re home.” Now Sam was the one crying, and he pulled away from Steve to wipe at his eyes. “Let’s move this party to the living room, you two look like you’re about to fall over. C’mon, you won’t believe the couch Bucky got, it’s stupidly huge and comfortable.” “If you don’t like it, you can get rid of it,” said Bucky, looking at Natasha with wide, slightly anxious eyes. “I mean, we—it’s your house, but Barton said he thought you wouldn’t mind if we stayed here, and we just got some new stuff, fixed it up a little. I, um, planted a garden out back. I hope—Sam said he thought you’d like it?”  Sam was caught in the warm space between exasperation and adoration for his dumbass sweetheart of a boyfriend. Natasha covered her face with her hands for a moment, her shoulders shaking with one short, sharp motion, before she lowered her hands again, smiling. “I have never cried this much in my life,” she said, laughing, before she leaned up to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “Of course I don’t mind. Why do you think I even got this house in the first place?” “It’s really not a safe house, is it,” Sam said softly. “No,” she said, and reached out to take Steve’s hand and Sam’s, tugging them all along with her towards the living room. “It’s a home. What do I know about those, right? But I thought—maybe, someday. Steve would find Bucky, and the Accords would get worked out, and we’d all stop running. And here we are.” After the end of the world, here they were. Sam’s heart ached and ached thinking of how long she’d had to hold onto that hope for, how often she must have thought it was impossible. But the house was here, and Sam and Bucky had fixed it and filled it up and held onto an impossible hope of their own, and now they were all here together, safe and free and alive. Sam reached out to Bucky with his free hand, and held on tight when Bucky took it. Bucky raised Sam’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, his eyes as bright and clear as safe and cloudless skies. “Here we are,” said Sam, and it was every desperate prayer and wild hope and lost dream each and every one of them had, finally fulfilled.  

Seoul, December 1, 2023 Min&Ko company, Law Firm. Yoongi was sitting at his workplace, face between his hands as he held himself by his elbows upon the crystal surface of his desk. A bored look on his face as he continued to nod and listen to the two omegas who were sitting on the opposite side on the comfy white velvet seats Jimin picked for their new office. Being a CEO and the head consultant in charge of the new cases was tiring for the male omega, even when their law firm was still small and rather new, with only three workers. Still, they were renting one modern office in one of the most valuable buildings in downtown Seoul. "And how is it possible to have the same soulmate on the lovegen app?!" one of the female omegas exclaimed alarmed, fed up, and sending daggers through her eyes to the other omega sitting by her side. "We don't know. You should go to the Jeons' Labs and complain in there" Yoongi said with a monotonic tone of voice, really exhausted by the case he had to overview, which was far from being a lawyer problem. "But..." A court knock on the door interrupted them. It was Jimin smiling and waving his small hand on the other side of the glass door. Yoongi moved his hand signaling for him to come in. "Hi! Hello..." he said bowing his head lightly. "Can I offer you some coffee?" "Sure" Yoongi responded before the two omegas could respond on their own. Jimin nodded exiting the male omega's office, lightly snickering. It was funny for Jimin to see Yoongi getting all grumpy with their clients when he was the one who suggested doing a Law Firm for omegas counseling and medical malpractices a year ago. The thing that annoyed Yoongi the most was most of the omegas that came over were because they had problems due to the lovegen app. He hated that thing by the way. Jimin went to add water to the coffee machine while turning the TV on to watch the news. The alpha began to hum a merry melody while placing the little cups on the tray. He didn't notice who was talking in the news. The phone in their office started ringing and Jimin was quick to pick up. "Min&Ko law firm, how can I help you?" he said cheerfully, after a year he still got excited to get new calls and clients. "Yes, tomorrow at 10 am. What's your name? Do we have a social worker here? Ugh... yes we do..." Jimin winced at his own lie. "Alright, good afternoon," he said hanging off with a loud sigh. Damn, they needed a social worker quickly. He moved to a side running a hand through his light brown hair when he caught sight of what was displayed on the news channel. He frowned grabbing the remote control to turn the volume on. Jeongguk. He was looking dazzling on the TV, surrounded by reporters and camera flashes. A cocky smirk on his face plastered as a permanent ornament. Dressed in an expensive suit and a dark grey turtleneck, and every piece of cloth accentuates his figure. His dark hair was perfectly parted to the side and his handsome face looked flawless. Jimin sat down on one of the multiple white velvet seats he bought for the office, listening carefully to what Jeongguk was announcing on the TV. A new feature of The Lovegen App and its launch on an exclusive party just for members of the Golden Group. "The Lovegen has incredible new features on its next update but we are maintaining these features as a secret until the day of the launch" Jeongguk explained to the reporters with his usual cocky but dashing smile, and Jimin smiled fondly watching him on the large TV placed on the waiting area in the office. "Lucky members of the Golden Group of the Lovegen App are welcome to celebrate with us in a massive event held in the Lotte Hotel here in Seoul" Jeongguk spoke ending the interview, but the reporters wanted more from him. He started to walk back towards his black Mercedes, some bodyguards trying to push the reporters away from him. "Mr. Jeon! Mr. Jeon! Is it true your engagement with Park Sooyoung?!" one of the reporters screamed before being reduced by one of Jeongguk's giant bodyguards. Jeongguk turned his face to smirk at the question already opening the door of his gorgeous car. "My personal life has nothing to do with the interview," he said with a rigid tone in his voice. "We spot Joy wearing a beautiful engagement ring Mr. Jeon!" "Then ask her" Jeongguk answered offering a cold smile, entering his car and immediately a bunch of guards pushed the reporters away, allowing the young CEO to go away safely. Jimin sulked in his seat letting out a loud sigh. Yoongi's voice along with other omegas distracted him and he turned around to see them walking toward the door. Yoongi dismissed the women closing the door while pinching the bridge of his nose, fed up. "I swear if one more omega comes here because of that damn app I'm suing Jeongguk" he grumpily said earning a snicker from Jimin. "And we need a social assistant with urgency. I'm going to put a job offer on some platforms" "Yes, hyung. A woman called asking for one along with a lawyer" Jimin was fast to reply, his eyes big and finally turning the TV off. "I can help you meanwhile" "No need Jimin. You already have a lot of work" he responded going next to Jimin to pour coffee into one of the cups. "How's the Lee case going?" "Good, I'm still doing some research" Jimin replied with a grin, proud of himself. And Yoongi nodded smiling back at him, both staring at each other for a long moment until it started to get awkward, again. Jimin and Yoongi never had awkward moments between them before. Jimin always felt comfortable with the man and would cling unto him with ease but after what happened to them three years ago, now and then they had their moments full of tension. And Jimin being so dense didn't decipher why. Deep inside he knew what it was, but he was too scared of being rejected once again. He couldn't survive another unrequited love, especially from Yoongi. Because Yoongi was too special to him. The tension between them was soon cut off by the door opening and a smiling Hoseok entering the office with a bunch of papers. "Hey guys, I came to bring the files you asked me to, Yoongi hyung," Hoseok said smiling and handing Yoongi the large brown envelopes. "... Are you guys okay?" he asked sensing the weird atmosphere around them. "Yes, of course," Jimin said waving off any weird behavior as Yoongi ignored everything. "Is this about the Han case?" the male omega asked and Hoseok nodded, his smile disappearing from his face. "Thank you" "I'll be back tomorrow. I'm going to have lunch with my hot nurse aka girlfriend" Hoseok smirked cheekily wriggling his eyebrows. "Dude you've been dating Becky for three years, stop making it sound like that" Jimin snapped bitterly at the beta who pouted. "You need to get laid Jimin" Hoseok teased wriggling his eyebrows once again, but this time Jimin blushed looking away and Yoongi cleared his throat awkwardly. Hoseok frowned at the two of them. "Anyways... are you going tonight to Jeongguk's dinner? He wants everyone to be there saying he had big news for us" the beta said smiling again. Jimin looked distant for a moment but nodded either way. "I'll be there..." "I'm going to be late though. I'm having dinner with my girlfriend at seven" Yoongi explained eyeing the files Hoseok brought for him, not noticing the way Jimin sulked on his seat, a light glare from the alpha towards him. But Hoseok did notice it, even when he didn't say anything about it.   ---------------------------     That night, Jimin almost dragged himself to Jeongguk's dinner reunion. Because he knew how those dinners usually went. Expensive alcohol, luxuries, and annoying people show off their wealth. And Jimin hated those plastic people trying to suck the toes of the new CEO of the Tech Department of the Jeons' Inc. This time the meeting was held at a fancy restaurant downtown, all reserved for Jeongguk and his guests. Jimin tried to dress up in his most fancy clothes, which according to Hoseok made him look like some spoiled rich brat. Jimin said thank you deciding to wear those clothes consisting of a grey long coat and a black fancy sweater, black tailored pants and leather boots, and his Chanel necklace as a decoration. He usually wore casual clothes, so being dressed like this was a major production for him. After getting out of the cab, he walked through the crowded street jogging lightly to avoid the cold weather of December. He was positive it could snow that night. Arriving at the restaurant he took out his ID card to show it to the large guard at the entrance. The bulky man let the alpha in and Jimin immediately beamed at the warmness of the place and the luxurious decoration. The chatter of people getting close as he continued his steps towards the center of the place. Among all those people Hoseok's voice stood out and Jimin easily spotted him over the bar with his girlfriend and other betas. "Hey," Jimin's voice startled the group who turned their faces to see the alpha greeting them. "Jimin! You're here!" Hoseok smiled at his friend while the alpha was greeting Becky, Hoseok's girlfriend. "Hola Becky cómo estás? Did I say it right?" Jimin asked awkwardly and the small beta girl giggled at him nodding. "Si papi" she answered drinking a margarita. "Te ves guapísimo esta noche" Jimin frowned for a moment but then opened his mouth grinning. "Gracias, tú te ves muy guapa está noche" the alpha said again sounding effortlessly flirty with a weird accent, earning a slap from Hoseok and another giggle from the girl. "Hey! Don't talk to my girlfriend in Spanish! I don't understand" Hoseok pouted like a child and Jimin just rolled his eyes at him while Becky wrapped her arms around the lean figure of the beta. "Where's Jeongguk?" Jimin finally asked, feeling like he haven't seen his friend for ages. This was partially true because the pure breed alpha was usually immersed in his business ignoring people's efforts to get close to him. "He's on his way. You know he's always late for these events" Hoseok rolled his eyes drinking his margarita, scrunching his nose from the strong flavor. "He'll be happy to see you. How long has it been?" "Just two months," Jimin said sitting next to Hoseok on one of the stools. "We both have been quite busy with our business," he said waving his hand to the bartender on the other side of the bar who was quick to come and take his order. "A martini please" "You're such a girl. You're the only alpha who drinks martinis probably" Hoseok teased earning a slap from Jimin. "Shut up, I just like the olives..." Jimin defended himself offering a grin at the beta who snicker lightly. Hoseok was about to respond when people clapping and greeting politely to another person distracted them. Jimin turned around to see who was coming and smiled at the sight. Jeongguk was finally there. And he was looking stunning. Dressed in a black suit with another turtleneck, this time it was black. Someone, probably an assistant, took the long gray coat from him and the leather gloves he was wearing while the man smiled at the people greeting him. A smile that vacillated between polite and arrogant. His sharp eyes scanning deliberately the place, he spotted Jimin and Hoseok for a moment, but it was brief, and Jeongguk was quick to keep walking, greetings and eyeing more persons in the place. It passed almost half an hour when Jeongguk finally came to welcome Jimin and Hoseok. And Jimin felt he was also just part of the meaningless people in there. The urge of hugging his childhood friend was smothering him, especially after having him so closely. There he was, standing imposing and alluring, dashing and smug. Jeon Jeongguk, his most precious friend. "Jimin, I'm glad you came," he said, his voice trying to sound warm but Jimin knew better, the lack of emotion was evident. "It's nice to see you Jeonggukie," Jimin said standing up to hug his friend. But it turned out awkward. Jimin was able to feel Jeongguk tensing under his touch, something that never happened before. Jeongguk departed rather quickly from Jimin's embrace, making eye contact with him but the small alpha darted his eyes away from the other. It was still hard for him to look into Jeongguk's eyes. Those warm brown eyes that used to hold stars in them were now black, null, and void. And it seriously scared Jimin to look at him for more than a short period and he wonder if other people felt the same way about it. "They'll be serving food soon. I hope you guys enjoy the banquet" Jeongguk spoke wearing the same smug smirk, cold and stoic. Smug, cold, and stoic. Black, null, and void. Jimin never thought he would be using those words in his head to describe Jeongguk, but it was his reality now. It was like Jeon Jeongguk turned an emotion switch off in him, shutting off himself and everyone around him. "Guk what's the announcement you'll make about?" Hoseok asked cheerfully, sipping on his second glass of tequila. "I will do the announcement later, wait for it" Jeongguk spoke turning his whole body around to greet more persons, especially persons who benefit his business. "I'll talk with you later, alright?" he said and both males nodded at him, watching Jeongguk leave. Hoseok sighed loudly, his smile vanishing. "You know? I would kill to hear him laugh again" he muttered to Jimin who grimaced immediately, just humming in response. The Jeongguk they once knew was gone, he died three years ago. The banquet was exquisite, a fusion of French and Japanese cuisine with a savor of a world-class three-course dinner. But Jimin still would pick fried rice kimchi and beef over this overprice food, and he guess his friends were the same. They were already there, all of them. Yoongi was alone sitting next to Jimin, and the alpha was thankful he left his girlfriend at home and decided to come alone. Jimin kept eyeing the people in the restaurant. He spotted some familiar faces but Jeongguk was nowhere to be seen. He also spotted Joy, looking gloomy and lonely in a Versace dress. Her long dark hair was pushed to one side in curls. Other women were trying to make small talk with her, but she wasn't answering, the opposite to be exact. She was being rather rude to most people. "What's up with Joy?" Jimin asked in a whisper to Hoseok who immediately looked over where the girl was sitting, Becky and Yoongi doing the same. "Being the girlfriend of Jeon Jeongguk must be exhausting" Becky was the one who spoke, ignoring the stares the males at the table gave her. "Most like a fake girlfriend. Everyone knows their relationship is made-up just for the media" Hoseok said shrugging and drinking more champagne. "Stop drinking this much bebe, you'll get drunk," the girl said yanking away the champagne glass from Hoseok who pouted and tried to act cute to his girlfriend. Jimin knew that too and he wonder how Joy could have so little self-esteem to continue to suffer from Jeongguk's silent treatment and cold attitude. Maybe she was really in love with him. Maybe Jeongguk was different with her privately. No one knew. But for the media, they were the perfect couple. Both gorgeous and in love, granting the lovegen app to double its sales. Because after Jeongguk took his position as the CEO responsible for the tech department, he started charging more for downloading the application. It was all about business now. And if the people who purchased the app wanted him to see him paired with Joy, he was going to give them that, not caring about anything else but business. "What the hell?" Yoongi exclaimed in his husky voice earning his attention. "What's Namjoon doing here?" he asked frowning and Jimin instantly turned to look at the entrance. Namjoon was there, talking to Jeongguk's assistant, who kept nodding indicating him to go sit near a table where other businessmen were. But before Yoongi could talk any further, or Jimin make his assumptions, Jeongguk appeared again. The pure breed alpha was still wearing the same smirk that seemed to be so forged. He cleared his throat eyeing everyone in the room but not sparing a second gaze on them. "Thank you for coming this evening" Jeongguk began to say, voice sultry but indifferent. "I wanted to make a big announcement today. To the loyal supporters of the Lovegen App and of course, my girlfriend and friends" he said eyeing Joy briefly, Jimin, Yoongi, and the others,  while the people around him began to clap. "It's been a whole year since I acquired the Tech Department of the Jeons' Inc. And since we're doing so well, we'll be launching our new and most extravagant feature by the end of the month" More clapping and whispers from the people attending the dinner. Everyone said how well Jeon Jeongguk managed his company and made it even better, earning amazing results. Hoseok cheered loudly making Yoongi cover his face with his hands out of embarrassment, Jimin just snickered fondly at them. "So I have a big surprise for today. I managed to convince someone who I truly admire to work with me" Jeongguk started saying, his eyes immediately gazing at the silver-haired alpha sitting rather awkwardly close to him. "The original creator of the Lovegen App. Mr. Kim Namjoon everyone" he said clapping his hands and Namjoon stood up bowing politely to the rest of the people. "Well, shit..." Yoongi murmured with a light frown, looking at the scene of Namjoon shaking hands with Jeongguk. Jimin and Hoseok looked the same, frowning and too stunned to function properly. "I'm delighted that Namjoon agreed to work with us" Jeongguk finally said, and it sounded genuine, with a hint of sincerity in his words, a hint of sentiment. "We will announce the new feature on December 30. Please keep supporting our business" the young alpha said bowing lightly, earning more applauses while random businessmen began to stand up to shake hands with him politely. The restaurant became noisy again, all people chatting and laughing. Yoongi was about to take a glass of champagne when Jimin stopped him, grabbing his wrist. "Hyung, you're driving" Jimin alerted with knowing eyes and the omega scoffed leaving the glass on the table and picking another glass with orange juice instead. "Good, I'm going to the bathroom. If I see you with another glass, I'm punishing you" the alpha said with a smirk while standing up, not knowing where that confidence came from. Probably the three martinis he had. Jimin walked towards the restroom, not noticing how red and flushed Yoongi was looking at the alpha's every movement. Hoseok on the other hand did and was grinning widely at the male omega. "What?" Yoongi asked annoyed and the beta just wriggled his eyebrows at him. "You're so dumb. You should tell him how you feel, it's been years already" The beta rolled his eyes taking the glass of champagne Yoongi previously left to drink instead of him. "I have a girlfriend now" Yoongi muttered, eyes sharp looking back at Hoseok. "Yeah, but Jimin is the one you want" Hoseok tsked shaking his head. "He's always been the one you want. And he was too dense in the past to notice he wanted you back, but I think he does know now... you two should give each other a shot" the beta said, this time not mocking or teasing, but rather sounding serious. Yoongi didn't say anything, he just let his brain process those words. Was Jimin interested in him now? The male omega groaned loudly, annoyed because he needed a drink at the moment. Meanwhile, Jimin made his way toward the bathroom, but the moment he entered the fancy restroom a loud gasp left his mouth. "T-tae?" he asked, confusion was written all over his face by seeing a male omega in tight jeans and a white oversized shirt, blond hair falling in wavy locks and he was applying lipstick on his lips. For a moment, Jimin swore the male was Taehyung. But it was just a moment. Because when the boy turned around, he stopped being Taehyung. He was smaller than Taehyung, thinner, and lacking the right curves. He had brown eyes and lighter skin that wasn't so flawless. He did have a sweet aroma coming from him and he was cute, a pretty male omega. But he wasn't Taehyung. The male looked at Jimin with curious eyes and a funny smile. "Did you say something to me?" he asked, and damn his voice was a high pitch, not even close to Taehyung's. Jimin shook his head negatively offering a smile to the cute male. "No, I'm sorry... I thought you were someone else..." The boy smiled with a nod. "No worries..." he said going back to see himself in the mirror, adding the powder to his face to cover the imperfections. Jimin sighed to himself, smiling weakly at the thought of Taehyung. Taehyung, who hasn't talked to him for almost a year already. They lost contact progressively. In the first year, they talked every day through messages and calls, second years talk once a week then once a month. And the last year, almost nothing. Absolutely nothing from Taehyung. Jimin returned to their table shaking off the thoughts of his friend and was pleasantly greeted by the sight of Jeongguk again. This time he was sitting with the others. Namjoon was also there, chatting animatedly with everyone, especially catching up with Yoongi. Jimin sat closer to Jeongguk, wanting to have an actual conversation with the alpha. "Hey, Guk..." Jimin called the black-haired alpha who turned to look at him. Damn, those eyes gave Jimin chills down his spine. So cold and dark. "How are you?" Jeongguk asked, no longer pretending to smile. Jimin liked that way better, even when Jeongguk's face was lacking emotions it was more real, more honest. He wasn't faking anymore. "Busy with the business..." the smaller alpha responded. "How's business going? Yoongi said you have a lot of cases" Jeongguk replied, his gaze flickering from Jimin to the glass of red wine he was drinking. Jimin smiled nodding. "We do. I'm working on a medical malpractice case and I'm positive we'll have good results" he said and Jeongguk nodded at the information, trying to look interested but failing miserably. "What about you Jeonggukie? Are you doing okay? it was a surprise to see Namjoon hyung here... I thought he didn't want to be involved with the lovegen app" Jeongguk's eyes gave some kind of glow, it was faint and it last no more than one second before returning to look null and void. "I'm very persuasive" he replied drinking more whine, emptying the glass. "I should get going..." "So soon?" Jimin asked furrowing his eyebrows. "I'd like to catch up with you some more... it's been two months since the last time I saw you" Jeongguk stared at Jimin for a moment. "I can have dinner with you tomorrow," he said checking the time on his wrist clock. Jimin beamed again nodding excitedly. "I'd love to have dinner with you," Jimin said smiling brightly and the pure breed alpha forced a smile at his friend. "Let's meet up at seven at that sushi place you like" Jeongguk spoke standing up from his seat and earning glances from his other friends at the table. "I shall go" he announced saying his goodbye to everyone and muttering something to Namjoon before disappearing among the turmoil of persons in the restaurant wanting to talk to him. But Jimin observed Jeongguk toward the exit. He saw how he ignored Joy who seemed to be at the edge of crying but pretending to smile as more women tried to talk to her. And he saw how the blonde male omega Jimin saw in the bathroom was waiting for Jeongguk at the door. And after the alpha exited the place with his bodyguards, the male omega followed him closely behind. Jimin frowned. He knew about the rumors about Jeongguk sleeping around with random people, but he always thought those were lies. The internet was full of deceptions anyways. He shook off those thoughts when Namjoon approached him, sitting next to him and patting his shoulder while offering his wonderful dimpled smile. "Hi Jimin. Jin misses you. He told me to invite you over for dinner" the newly silver-hair alpha said and Jimin instantly beamed happily. "Hey, hyung. Yes! I've been busy with work, but I will visit Jin hyung this weekend. Is that alright?" the smaller alpha replied cheerfully and Namjoon nodded his head agreeing. Jimin and Jin had grown close to each other, and Jimin felt like Jin has become sort of an older brother to him. Namjoon knew that, and he felt like Jimin helped his husband to go through all these years decently without that part of his family missing. "He would like that" Namjoon smiled. "Hey, Joon... now tell us why you finally agreed to work again on the lovegen app" Yoongi spoke bluntly, taking the alpha by surprise. Namjoon snickered awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Well... I guess Jeongguk is convincing" "Bullshit. Tell us the truth" Yoongi spat crossing his arms against his chest. Namjoon looked at him and then at Jimin. Hoseok and his girlfriend were chatting apart from them with other people, so the silver-haired man nodded his head. Namjoon lowers his voice choosing carefully his next words. "It's related to business... Jeongguk is trying to find his own shareholders with the new features of the lovegen to separate the Jeon tech department from the rest of the company. Make it his own... He had this incredible strategy for it, and I decided to help him" Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows, a small scowl on his doll-like face. "Is he going against his mother?" he asked and Namjoon sighed loudly. "Not against... he just wants to separate their business..." the alpha explained tapping his fingers on the table. "Most of the Jeons' Inc shares are set on the Tech Department, meaning Jeongguk is the one working his ass off to provide for the whole company" "But if he divides the business his mother won't have any choice but to sell the rest of the business to a holding company" the omega replied knowing perfectly how the business worked, after all his family is one of those shareholders with outstanding stocks of other companies. Namjoon hummed nodding his head, eyeing from Yoongi to Jimin. "Well a holding company does reduce risks of losing incomes for the shareholders, so it'd be fine" "Jeongguk is one smart motherfucker" Yoongi said with a grin, a gummy-like grin. "Never thought he had it in him" "I guess grief does make you grow up..." Jimin muttered lowering his gaze to his hands that were fidgeting with an abandoned ornament on the table, thinking in Jeongguk's cold face, stoic expression, and hollow eyes. After Jimin said those words a dim silence enveloped the table, it was palpable, but it didn't last long. Namjoon was fast to keep talking about their potential business. Jeon's Labs, the new name of the Tech Department of Jeons' Enterprises. "Yoongi" Hoseok's slurred voice called to the omega who turned to look at him. "Can you give us a drive...? I'm not in shape for driving" he slurred again with a hic at the end. Yoongi groaned annoyed but he nodded either way. "Then we should go now, I'm tired..." the omega said standing up and patting Jimin on the head. "Want me to give you a drive too?" he asked the alpha who nodded standing up too. They said their goodbye to Namjoon who had to stay a little longer at the dinner to talk with potential investors. Jimin picked up his coat and Yoongi's coat, wrapping against the small frame of the omega, again not noticing the way Yoongi's pale face got colored by a pretty pink blush. "I'm so drunk I don't even feel cold anymore" Hoseok slurred snickering, one arm tightly secured around his girlfriend's waist who was having trouble walking straight with the drunk beta by her side. Jimin shook his head with a grin, walking slow steps behind Yoongi and putting his hands in his coat's pocket to keep them warm. But as they continue to walk, they spot a familiar figure not so far from them. Joy. The girl was sitting on the sidewalk with her silver heels in her hands, her head between her hands and shaking slightly. The moment she heard steps she lifted her head to look and instantly frowned looking surprised and embarrassed. She still managed to look classy and elegant, even when she was literally on the floor with her shoes off. Her make up a bit ruined probably from crying and her cheeks were red from the alcohol she had drunk. "Joy? Are you alright?" Yoongi spoke walking quick steps towards the girl who nodded her head with a tight smile. "I'm fine... don't worry about me" she answered politely but it was obvious that she wasn't fine. Yoongi tilted his head giving her a sympathetic smile. "I can offer you a drive. We're heading home" "No... it's okay. I can call a cab" Joy replied looking away from them while wrapping her faux-fur coat tightly against her body to keep the warmness, her long dark brown hair hiding her face. "Don't be stupid" Yoongi snapped offering his hand to her. "Come on... it's freezing here" he said, and she nodded accepting his hand and standing up, eyeing briefly at Jimin and the others. Again, Jimin felt bad for Joy but he didn't say anything. No one did. And no one mentioned Jeongguk either. Jimin knew perfectly the alpha had left with another boy instead of her. Later, after leaving Hoseok and Becky in their shared apartment, Joy was sitting in the backseat of Yoongi's SUV by herself. "Where shall I take you? Guk's house or yours?" Yoongi suddenly asked, breaking the silence in the car. Joy was looking through the window not sparing a glance at the other males. "Mine... Jeongguk is not in his apartment...and he doesn't let me stay in there anyways" she said with a chuckle, a bitter chuckle. "You know he doesn't allow anyone in his apartment". Jimin turned his face to look at the girl grimacing at her comment, he knew it was true. He wasn't invited over there either. Joy chuckled again. "He goes to cheap hotels with his different hookups and then returns to his apartment to drown in his own pity" she scoffed loudly. "Then why are you still with him?" Yoongi asked bluntly, annoyed already by the girl babbling, not liking how she was talking about his friend. This time Joy moved her head to look at the front, furrowing his eyebrows. "I love him" "No you don't" Yoongi spat back. "The guy you once knew is long gone, kid. You should move on with your life and find someone who truly appreciates you" Jimin gulped at the bluntness of Yoongi's words meanwhile Joy was stunned, her eyes sparkling under the passing lights of the streets and cars. "Your relationship with him is just a show for the stupid people who see the two of you in the lovegen app advertising imagining a fucking happy world" Joy was shocked, astounded to the core by Yoongi's words and the awful truth they held. "You don't need to be so harsh..." Jimin muttered to Yoongi feeling compassion towards the female omega in the backseat. "I don't need your pity Jimin," Joy said back hearing what the alpha had said to Yoongi. "If you don't want pity then stop being so dumb" Yoongi snapped again, eyebrows furrowed while he continued to drive to the Gangnam district. "Don't you get sick of him? We all saw him leaving with that male omega. Everyone knows he has a fucking obsession with blonde male omegas. He keeps trying to see Taehyung in them" Yoongi spoke receiving a tense silence. "I didn't know..." Jimin muttered in a small voice earning an eye roll from Yoongi. Joy was crying. Yoongi made her cry but he didn't care. He wanted to be the one to tell her what everyone was thinking but no one had the guts to say it out loud. And he knew Joy since college, she was in his omega class from day one, so he did care for the girl. He wanted to make her open her eyes to realize she was just being used by Jeongguk. "He's dead inside Joy," Yoongi said again, his tone of voice getting softer. "He will never love you back, please find someone who does..."   ----------------------------   After the straightforward conversation with Joy, Yoongi left her by her complex apartment, she looked broken and sad, but the male omega expected her to at least listen to some of his words. After that, Yoongi seemed very tired, he drove towards Jimin's new apartment, parking near the six-floor building. A small building near a park, it was elegant and quite cozy, with an Italian-style atmosphere. Yellow and orange colors made the building stand out, and what Jimin loved the most about it was the pretty flowers on every balcony. He felt like he was living in Florence. "It was much easier when you were living with me" Yoongi complained watching as Jimin took off the seatbelt with a silly grin. "Yeah well, you needed your privacy..." the alpha replied accommodating his coat. "You always made me endure slow death with all the girls you brought home" he teased. But Yoongi scoffed loudly, alarmed. "What? I never brought anyone home" "Mai Lee and Lalisa," Jimin said rolling his eyes. "And Mai Lee counts as ten because she's super annoying. I'm so happy she's back in Japan now" he said snickering, making Yoongi grin too, probably agreeing. "It's lonely sometimes without you..." Yoongi said looking away from Jimin, his ears immediately gaining a red color, he coughs awkwardly. "Just sometimes" "I miss you too hyung," Jimin said smiling widely, his eyes disappearing into crescent moons making Yoongi feel his heart fluttering at the sight. "I have Sally with me though- And she's better company than you," Yoongi said breaking the funny feeling around them making Jimin scoff, his smile still on his face. "Well, Bianca kinda looks like you so I cuddle with her every night" Jimin spoke with a hint of teasing in his voice, but Yoongi was red as a tomato. And Jimin just enjoyed the sight of the omega all flustered because of him. "Good night hyung, I'll see you on Monday," the alpha said squeezing the omega's hand and opening the door of the SUV to get out, stopping for a moment. "Unless you're too tired to drive... you can always crash here" Yoongi seemed to be thinking about that proposition, but it was dangerous for his heart to be this close to Jimin, so he shook his head negatively. "Don't worry... I have to feed Sally anyways" "Okay," Jimin replied looking a bit disappointed. "Text me when you arrive home then" Jimin stood there for a moment, watching how Yoongi drove away from him. A warm feeling on his chest and a smile on his face, he didn't know why he became so confident around Min Yoongi, but he enjoyed it very much, for moments he forgot that the omega was dating Lalisa. He sometimes wishes to go back in time and never allowed them to have a date together. Stupid crushes, why couldn't he crush over someone single? Jimin was positive that his brain was just as stupid as his heart. And he couldn't help but wonder what matching percentage he had with Min Yoongi on the Lovegen app.  

The room was still cold, but you had a fire crackling across the room. Not that you were near enough to feel the warmth, but the blankets and pillows nestled around you chased away what cold wanted to sink in and keeps you cradled in that half sleep state even after the sun had risen. You didn’t want to wake and you knew exactly why. Maids would be on you the instant you opened the door to dress you and prepare you for the rest of the day. You would have no break from the moment you get up to the moment these doors closed once more that night. Not that Wilbur being there would make rest easy. In fact, the idea of sharing a room for him was unsettling. No more would your room be an escape from his unrelenting grip. You bury your face in the pillow to ignore the idea and groan softly. Light was starting to trickle and crawl over your eyes. Soon you’d be forced to get up, whether you wanted to or not. Just as you were considering pulling the blankets aside the door creaks open with some argumentative mumbling. “No, we wanted to give them breakfast. Shoo-“ “Tommy hush, they might still be sleeping!” It was your boys. You can’t stop the smile that curls up when you realize that. They wouldn’t let you be alone today. Of course not. It’s Tommy that bounces onto the bed when he hears your laugh. Tubbo can’t join as he’s carrying a tray of food. Half burnt eggs, bread slathered in butter, and you’re not exactly sure it could be called porridge with how runny whatever was in the bowl was. But it was perfect. “Happy wedding day! We wanted to give you good morning before anyone else!” Tubbo smiles as the three of you pick at the breakfast. “Of course we did! We’re your favorites, who better to wake you.” Tommy preens when you agree with him and Tubbo laughs. Breakfast can only last so long and soon enough the maids do force their way inside. Tommy whines and complains but reluctantly leaves after much pushing and prodding. It wasn’t like they could help you get ready, not that you wouldn’t love that. The idea of Tommy getting lost in the piles of fabric unable to pick which other went first. You manage to hold onto that thought and smile your way through the dressing. You are pulled tight into clothes, hair pulled into perfect styles and pins pushed in to keep it in place. It was a normally painful experience but you push through it with a grin. You would not let this day turn sour so quickly. Wilbur would be mad if you presented as anything other than happy and perfect. So you would do what he wanted. Stiff posture, a light smile, eyes warm and full of joy. The image kept flashing in your mind of what he wanted, and you cling to it, trying to associate it with what you want as well. You wanted to be married. You wanted to be married to him. Be his happy spouse. Be a good leader and a kind one. They were good goals to have. So you would follow through with them against all your previous hope you would fall willingly into these roles. The cage bars would thicken, and you would sing just as prettily behind them, because you chose this. You chose everything you are about to walk into. ———————— Guards are at every corner throughout the day. There was not a moment you were alone. You weren’t even alone with your soon to be family either. When Techno comes to wish you luck there is a guard at every window. You both have to laugh at that and it lessens the tension ever so slightly. He does however hug tighter than ever before when he has to depart. He knew that this was likely to end exactly how Wilbur wanted. Phil’s visit is different. He looks tired, but he still smiles at you. He compliments you with a soft chuckle and lets his hand rest in yours. “I’m happy to be considered your father soon. I couldn’t want anything more for Wilbur” his voice is soft and you can’t help but tear up. He immediately moves to dab under your eyes with a handkerchief and his eyes grow worried. It was like he was finally seeing how battered you’d become. “I’m sorry.. please don’t cry. You’ll be good for the people, and for Wil. I know you’ll make each other better.” He still couldn’t admit it, but you can see that he’s starting to understand. Maybe techno could get through to him sometime soon. Not in time to fix this, but soon enough that you wouldn’t be alone in suffering for long. It’s bittersweet when he leaves. You knew it meant the ceremony was starting soon, but it also meant that the day was almost over as well. You spend your last few minutes staring out a window at the horizon, keeping a smile on your face even as tears slide down it. Hopefully it would pass as joy when you stepped out. A soft and sweet chord plays from the distance and you are ushered to your feet. You know the music must be perfect to everyone else, but to you it sounds discordant and imperfect. It does not fit the true emotion behind this wedding. You would have much preferred a military march to this soft romantic lilt. You knew it was for images, but you could not help but wish for it to change with your first step down the aisle. Your gaze is down for the first few steps, anxiety creeping up your throat at all the eyes on you. You didn’t want to look up to see him, so when you do look up you look to the guests. You see your parents, happiness apparent at their smiles and teary eyes. You see Tommy and Tubbo craning their necks and standing up to see you with big thumbs up and supportive smiles. Phil stands at the pulpit with the same tired smile, but it brightens when he sees you coming up the aisle. Techno stands behind Wil with a blank look. You couldn’t tell if it was comfort, disappointment, or sadness in his eyes when he meets yours, but you smile in return nonetheless. King George and Dream catch your eyes from the pews, watching with all the grace the royal couple should, but Dream catches your eye and smiles wider than you’d ever seen him. It hurt somewhat, seeing that, but not as much as the next eyes you are forced to catch as the music crescendos. You and Wilbur lock eyes and you can’t help but notice how happy he is to watch you walk into your own fate. How relaxed he can be when this is your whole future. How smug his eyes are when he catches the slip of your smile for the briefest of seconds. He knows he has you. His hands grasp yours, first clinging and harsh, but it goes soft in moments. He doesn’t have to fight to keep you. In his eyes you are already his. It’s why you can’t stand to look in his eyes as Phil starts to speak. You can’t stand to look at your hands joined either. It’s just too soft for this moment. You look out to the crowd as Wilbur and Phil exchange words. “I do’s” echo in your head but you can’t force yourself to care. Your eyes meet a familiar pair in the back. What looks like Alex smiles brightly at you, too real for what you know to be hallucination. You flick away, begging to see someone real only to see Connor at the side of the venue. He doesn’t immediately look up to you, checking over tools in his belt but he smiles too when he looks up. Why must you hurt yourself like this with hope. You start to cry and pull your eyes away to complete your half of the declarations. “I do’s” fall from your lips at every required interval, but you feel fuller at every word. You feel like shrinking and slinking into yourself but Wilbur’s hands keep you tied to this moment. You would do anything to not be here so you look to the audience once more. You know Phil is now reading scripts before asking for objections you know won’t come. It slides to the background as your eyes meet another pair you feel aren’t real. He was in the back, smiling much too confidently and teasing you with hope. J stands and raises a hand. When a gasp goes through the crowd you find it harder to dismiss as a fiction. When Wilbur digs his hands into your wrists you blink at the person now stepping forward with that smug cocky expression and he doesn’t fade. The final chord is struck when he opens his mouth and that voice you’ve missed so much tumbles out and it’s real. It was him. “I object. On the grounds that Wilbur is not a suitable husband and that I love them.” Tears slide down your face and you can’t help but feel weak at the knees. “I love you little one, couldn’t let you get married without me.”

Ursula is, you will recall, photographer Charlie Wentworth's favorite model. First, let's talk about Ursula's background: She was born and raised in Sweden and had emigrated to the United States a little less than a year ago. In Sweden she had almost never seen a black man or woman, and never up close. To make matters worse, her father was an avowed racist, although he would have denied it vehemently if you had ever called him one. He just didn't care for them, even though he never even spoken to a person of color. Of course he had pretty much poisoned his daughter's viewpoint and convinced her that blacks were all lazy, illiterate, smelled bad and possessed any number of other disgusting traits. When Ursula arrived in this country she immediately found modelling work, as she was every fashion editor's dream: tall at about six feet, slender and she moved in a graceful, somewhat haughty manner. She also arrived with her father's prejudices. She had seen Charlie Wentworth's credit line attached to some beautiful photographs in the top fashion magazines and was delighted when her agent told her to report to his studio, along with several other girls. In talking with the girls they all agreed that Charlie was a delight to work with. The fashion coordinator had already dressed her in her first outfit and she was waiting for the shoot to begin, when Charlie appeared. She was shocked and appalled. No one had told her that he was a black man! A very black man at that. She considered leaving immediately, in a huff, but she was already dressed for the shoot and figured it wouldn't give her career a boost if she did so. The idea of taking direction from a... a... a... well you know, made her skin crawl. As the shoot progressed he proved to be none of the things her father had told her about blacks. He was energetic, soft spoken, well mannered and clearly well educated. What was she to think? By the time they broke for lunch and were sitting around eating their box lunches she was thoroughly confused. Charlie came over, sat with her for a time and inquired about her background, among other things. She decided against bringing up her preconceived notions about his race. Good idea, Ursula. He even smelled good. By the end of the day they had developed a mutual respect. Over the course of the next few months Charlie booked her for a number of jobs and every time she looked forward to working with him, and he likewise with her. So, when she offered a dinner invitation he accepted without hesitation, in spite of his policy of never going out with models he booked for photo shoots. This clearly an exceptional case. Clearly!!! Ursula selected a restaurant, they agreed on a time and further agreed that Charlie would pick her up outside her apartment building. Having settled on a time and place, Charlie dressed in his best casual, but dressy outfit: a sport coat and open collar. He hated neckties and would only wear one if he were going to a client meeting and felt that he would stand out, in a negative way, without one. Charlie was as nervous as a teenager getting ready for the prom. He thought about having a drink to settle himself down, but figured that would be a decidedly bad idea. Ursula, for her part, dressed very modestly in hopes of keeping any carnal temptations from interfering with dinner: She selected a lightweight turtleneck jersey and dark slacks. The restaurant she had selected was of no particular ethnicity, other than the somewhat vague category of 'American Cuisine', whatever that combination of English and French meant. They had a delightful dinner. The food was so-so, but the company and the conversation were first rate. In spite of her attempts to dress as modestly and as plainly as possible she still turned heads when they entered the restaurant. She moved with such grace you couldn't help but notice. Charlie was beaming! In spite of her apparel, when she looked intently at him with her clear blue eyes, touched his arm or held his hand they could both feel the sexual electricity and both of them were barely able to restrain themselves. If they did not make love tonight, he thought, they never would. Ursula paid for dinner and Charlie made no protest since she had made it clear that one of the conditions of her agreeing to go out with him was that she would buy. He made note of the fact that she was a generous tipper. They drove back to Ursula's apartment. Charlie parked in one of the spots in the garage reserved for guests. As they walked toward the elevator the temptation on Charlie's part to grab her beautiful ass was overwhelming, but he knew the timing was bad and he might spoil the moment , and he certainly didn't want that! They entered the apartment and there was a brief awkward moment then Ursula said, "I'd offer you a drink, but all I have is some Akvavit, and I believe that's an acquired taste. It's a Swedish thing and even I'm still working on it." "No thanks. I'm not much of a drinker either." "I'll make some coffee," she said and floated; there was no other word for it, off toward the kitchen. Charlie followed her. While the coffee was brewing, she turned toward him. "Come here Charlie." He did as she asked. She put her arms around his neck, leaned into him, pressed her slender body against his, cocked her head to one side, closed her eyes and kissed him full on his lips. Now he thought might be the time to grab a handful of her rear end and he cupped a hand under each cheek and squeezed. She murmured her approval. Their tongues added to the stimulation and Ursula felt his excitement begin to swell and press against her belly. For some reason they both forgot about the coffee. "Let's go to my bedroom," she suggested. She unplugged the coffee maker and led him down the hall. The only light in the room was a small table lamp on a nightstand. They both undressed, he rather hurriedly, she more slowly, almost reluctantly. At last, Ursula stood there, that perfect body, naked in the half-light of her room. Her head was down and her eyes lowered. Her hands were behind her, a picture of a certain shy innocence. It suddenly occurred to Charlie: she had never done this before! He had taken off his clothes and was seated on the edge of the bed. He rose and walked over to her. "Ursula, are you a virgin?" he asked bluntly. She mumbled, "Yes." And began to sob gently. He took her in his arms and held her against him as he stroked her back. He was excited at the prospect of being the first man to fuck her, but knew he would have to be very, very careful. She could bolt and ask him to leave if he handled it clumsily. "Look, Ursula we don't have to do this if you don't want to." "Oh no, I want to in the worst way, but I'm afraid I'll disappoint you," she said, looking up into his eyes. He kissed her gently on the lips. They both felt his cock stiffen as it pressed against her belly. "Are you on the pill, or should I get a condom?" he asked. "I've been on the pill for years now, as a way to control my periods and even in hopes I'd find the right guy to do it with." "And you think I'm that guy?" "I'm sure of it, you're kind and gentle and I trust you completely." "I'll try not to disappoint you. Come with me, over here." He led her over to the bed and admired her gorgeous body. "I think you should be on top, so you can pull out if you want to. "Do you have some Vaseline, or some hand cream?" "Of course, but I've got some KY jelly too." "You what?!" "Well, I've seen the commercials and I thought, just in case..." "You naughty girl you, go get the KY and bring it here. She returned with the tube of jelly and looked down at his cock sticking straight out in front of him. "May I touch it?" she asked hesitantly. "Of course, it's called a cock, among other things." "I know, it's just that I've never seen one before. I mean, in the flesh, so to speak." He laughed at her little joke, took her hand in his, and poured a generous bit of the KY Jelly in hers. "Let it warm up a little and put it on my cock." She did as she was told and thrilled as it jumped at her touch. He lay back on the bed and invited her to climb on top of him. She straddled his chest. He told her to grab his cock and run it through her slit to spread some jelly from the head onto her pussy. When she rose up, he could see the moisture glistening on her virgin cunt. The virgin pussy that was soon to be virgin no more. Her desires and wishes were soon to be met. She lowered herself until the head of his cock penetrated her. She slowly lowered her pussy onto his cock. He reached up and massaged her breasts. They were small, but very firm and her nipples were hard and distended. "Hmmmm, that feels so good.", she said as he ran his palms other them. For his part he marveled at her smooth, young skin. He could watch his cock slowly disappearing into her. She stopped for a moment, rose up and then slowly lowered herself on his cock again. She closed her eyes and the thought of what she was doing resulted in her first orgasm. She gave a little grunt of pain and shortly, he saw a spot of blood mingled with her cock-coating juices. As Ursula finally took all of his cock into her pussy, she felt as though she had a huge, stiff pole in her. When she started slowly moving though, other sensations started coursing through her body. They were nothing like anything she had ever experienced before. She groaned and bit her lip. She couldn't help herself from screaming out in ecstasy. Charlie started moving faster, thrusting his cock up into her. That caused the sensations to become even more intense. "Oh, Charlie that feels so good," She yelled. Fuck me harder. Fuck me harder." This demure, hesitant, frightened little girl who had stood before him moments ago was now nearly out of control. Ursula could only wonder at the feelings that ran through her body. She understood desire and lust, of course, but never on this scale. Her whole body was on fire within her. As Charlie continued thrusting his cock into her newly opened pussy, he probed her clit with his thumb, causing new sensations to race through Ursula's body. The tightness of her pussy was causing Charlie to grit his teeth to keep from shooting his wad before she had cum again. He could smell her arousal. She was making more sounds of ecstasy and abandon as Charlie jabbed his cock deeper. Charlie's thrusts became more urgent as his climax approached. Ursula could sense his cum rising as her pussy announced her own quickening orgasm. He was thrusting up harder and harder into her virgin pussy as his balls emptied their load of cum into her. She exploded again. Dimly, she could feel Charlie's cock shooting warm cum deep into her pussy. Every spurt of his cock caused another thrill to pump through her body. When her last spasm of orgasm erupted, she screamed her enjoyment of it. She was moving up and down on Charlie's impaling cock. She milked the last of his cum by instinctively clenching his cock with her pussy. Soon, his cum started leaking out, mixed with her juices. As they lay there catching their breath, she leaned over him again. "That was wonderful Charlie, and easier than I thought it would be. Can we do it again?" "You'll have to give me a little while to regenerate," he laughed, "But yes, of course, we can do it again." She kissed him and rolled off him onto her back. He moved his hands over her body as she lay there. She cooed her approval at his gentle touch and responded as he gently kneaded her breasts and teased her nipples. He slid his hand down between her legs. She opened them and he spread both of their juices across her belly. "That was fun, but it's kind of messy isn't it? I think I'll take a shower." "Mind if I join you?" "Oh no, not at all. That might be fun too." They soaped one another up and as they rinsed off Ursula pushed Charlie against one wall of the shower and leaned against him. She reached down between them and grabbed his cock. "How are we doing down there?" "Much better, thanks in large part, to you" "Glad I could help. Now let's dry off and I'll dry my hair and then see how you're doing." She dried her hair while he waited for her in the boudoir. When she came out she went to the bed, lay down and threw a leg over Charlie's. After a minute or two she said: "Charlie?" "Yeah." "Am I some kind of freak?" "Freak! Why would you say something like that?" "I don't know, but did you see the way people stared at me when we went in the restaurant tonight?" "Ursula it was jealousy that made them stare. The men were jealous of me and the women were just plain jealous." "Do you really think so?" "No, I KNOW so. You are the most gorgeous thing they have ever seen and they feel they must know who you are, but they just can't come up with your name." "Thank you Charlie," she said as she traced her finger along his chest. "And thank you for awakening something inside me." "I don't know what that 'something' would be, but I think my cock is about ready to resume the search." She ran her hand farther down his body and found his cock coming alive. She rolled off him and onto her back. She spread her legs and he knelt between them. "Now, what is it you want me to do?" he asked. "I want you to make wild, passionate love tome." "Use words I can understand, Ursula." "Oh... alright, you son of a bitch! I want you to fuck me hard. I want you to stuff that big black cock of your into my warm white pussy and fuck me 'til I'm blue in the face. Happy?" "Much better." He leaned over her and kissed her long and hard. She responded with her own tongue and his hand went down to her diminutive breasts. She cooed her approval as he gently tweaked her nipples and he felt them harden to his touch. He slid his hand down between her legs and he felt her warm, moist pussy. "I think you might be ready," he said. "Oh you know I am!" In a moment she felt the head of his cock enter her and as he slid it further into her pussy she felt none of the pain of their first encounter, only the stimulation. "Oh shit, Charlie that feels soooo good. I want more. Feed me more of that big black monster." Hearing her talk dirty always excited him and he began pumping harder and faster. She wrapped her long legs around him, dug her heels into his back and then locked her ankles together and tried to help him go deeper. All the while she continued to prod him on. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Harder, harder." Her head flailed around and she let out a scream as she orgasmed big time. She dug her heels into the bed and she tried to grind her hips into his. She felt his balls slap against her ass. Every new sensation excited her and she groaned and whimpered in ecstasy. As his pace quickened she knew he was close to a climax. "Shoot that load in me you big black bastard!" With that, he came hard inside her and she felt his cum ooze out of her pussy and run down to her ass. He lay still on top of her. She could feel his heart beating against her chest. "Fantastic," he said when he had recovered enough to speak. "Yeah, fantastic sounds right to me," she gasped. It was late and, after a quick shower they both quickly fell into a deep sleep.

I was sitting on the couch half watching television. I kept thinking about the other night when I turned into a whore and let the three guys I didn't know have their way with me. I still don't know their names. I was wearing a tight t-shirt and a pair of hot pink panties that were getting very moist as I kept thinking about the way they had fucked me. I became very aroused and started to play with my clit while I thought about those large black stud cocks using and abusing me. I slid my hand into my panties and slapped my pussy a few times and rhythmically began to rub my engorged pussy lips. I slid a few fingers into my joy box and began to plunge them in and out until I came in my panties. A few minutes later, someone knocked at the door. I walked to the door and looked to see who was there. I was expecting my husband Ken home soon, but it wasn't him. There next to the door stood the three guys from the other night and a couple of their friends. I opened the door and invited them in. They wanted to know if I wanted to earn some money, and I thought about it for half a second and told them yes. I asked what they wanted me to do and they told me that they wanted me to be their whore for the night. I asked them how many men would be coming, and they told that what I saw is what I got, the five of them. I told them it would cost them a thousand dollars. One guy reached into his pocket, pulled out the cash and handed it to me. I told them I would be right back that I had to go to the bathroom. I went upstairs and put the money away, brushed my hair and put it into a ponytail. I put on some makeup, bright red lipstick and returned downstairs. I left my tight t-shirt and soaked panties on. I walked over to the guy that gave me the money, unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick black cock. I slid it into my mouth and sucked him deep until he unloaded a full mouthful of cum into it. One by one I sucked them all until they came, some in my mouth, some on my face and another all over my t-shirt. My pussy and panties were dripping wet and my nipples were very hard. I was very horny and couldn't wait to screw them all. I led them upstairs to the guest bedroom and lay down on the bed. They undressed and decided who would be the first one to have his way with me. They were all very well-hung and I trembled with anticipation, wanting to feel a fat black cock inside me. I told them to make sure they came inside of me to help me stay lubricated so that I could take them all on. I took my panties off and spread my legs to show them my bald, wet engorged and hungry cunt. The first guy climbed onto the bed and positioned the huge head of his cock against my swollen, cock hungry cunt-lips. He gently slid his massive dick into me and I let out a moan of pleasure as he was stretching and filling me with his huge shaft. He withdrew and re-entered me a little faster this time. He kept picking up the pace with each stroke, I was moaning and groaning with pleasure, telling him to fuck me harder, deeper and faster. I started cumming, my pussy squirted with each of his furious strokes and began to pulse and squeeze his cock, milking it for the load I wanted. Shortly after I came, he filled me full of his thick, slippery cum. I looked around the room to see who was going to screw me next and noticed Ken in the doorway, smiling from ear to ear. I smiled back at him and asked if he wanted to join the party. He nodded his head. I told him to pull up a chair next to the bed, so he did as instructed. I had the men tie him to the chair and he didn't even try to resist. There was a huge bulge in his pants, so I know that he was excited. The next man mounted me and very quickly thrust his dick into me, over and over again. My sloppy cunt was slurping and spitting as he fucked me hard and deep. I love the way it feels getting used that way. I came again, squirting cum all over his cock, balls and thighs, not to mention soaking the bed. He kept stroking until I came again. After about ten minutes of slamming me hard, he shot a huge load deep inside me. He got up and asked who was next. Another guy stepped up to the plate. I pulled my t-shirt off to reveal my firm perky breasts and pierced nipple chain. I told them that I wanted Ken on the bed with me, so they untied him from the chair; he stripped and they hog-tied him on the bed. I straddled his face and told him to eat my black cock loving cum filled cunt; he eagerly ate me out as I ground my crotch onto his face until I came again. The next guy wanted to fuck me from behind, so I got on my hands and knees with my pussy right over Ken's face. The hefty black cock eased into me and slowly slid in and out of me for several minutes. I lowered my pussy to Ken's face and told him to lick my clit while the guy fucked me. He licked my sloppy cunt and made me cum. The guy fucking me picked up his pace and pulled my ponytail and slapped my ass. I lifted my ass to meet him stroke for stroke and started sucking Ken's cock. It only took a couple of minutes for Ken to cum. Then the guy screwing me pulled out of me and shoved the head of his cock into Ken's mouth, I ordered Ken to suck the guy off and to do a good job. He balked at first, resisting the entry of the cock into his mouth. I told him that if he didn't do it that he was out of the party. Ken reluctantly took the huge cock into his mouth, gagging on it a few times but sucked and sucked until the guy said he was about to cum, so the guy pulled out of Ken's mouth and shoved his meat very firmly into my swollen pussy. He went so deep that he hit the bottom of my sloppy hole, stopped and then unloaded his huge wad deep inside me. When he got up I made Ken eat me again. The fourth guy rolled me over and plowed me like he was an ex-con. He was relentless with his very dark long black pole. He was hitting bottom with every other stroke. I moaned with pleasure as he laid his pipe in me. For about thirty minutes he fucked the hell out of me, and I loved it. I came several times, squirting all over his relentless cock each time. He stopped and pulled out of me and slapped my cunt with his meat, then he started smacking my tits and face with it. I felt so trashy for enjoying myself so much, but I liked the feeling. He stuffed my mouth with his meat and made me suck every inch of it, which was at least 12" or more, all the way past my tonsils. I am a great cock-sucker, and didn't even gag as he rammed it down my throat. He was ready to cum, so he pulled out of my mouth and slammed my pussy hard and deep. He came inside of me and made me come again too. The last guy (one of the new ones) had the largest, fattest cock I had ever seen and I remembered sucking him earlier, because he almost made me gag. I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me. He was HUGE! I almost came just thinking about him inside my well-fucked sloppy puss. He positioned himself over me and gently slid the head of his monster up and down my swollen pussy lips. He placed the tip of it into the opening of my cunt and eased it slowly into me. I spread my legs and lifted them high waiting to get my pussy stretched out like never before and I squealed with pleasure as he entered me. I wondered if I was going to be able to take it all inside of me, after all, I sure wanted it and was determined to please him! After the massive head entered me, I wondered if I could handle the rest of it or not. He kept easing into me as I came again, squirting all over his massive meat, and he wasn't even halfway inside of me! He rolled me over and let me be on top, with his thick meat still inside of me. He pulled the nipple chain and started squeezing and licking my breasts. I came again. I slowly eased my sloppy love hole down onto the length of his huge dick. I finally took as much of his cock as I could take, because I slid down to the point to where he was so deep into me that I didn't have anymore room for him to go. My pussy had never been stretched so wide before, it was completely stuffed, and it felt so good! I wiggled around on it try to get all of it inside of me and got him a little deeper inside of me. I started to grind on it and came again; I was moaning and groaning because his shaft felt so great inside of me. I ordered Ken to lick my clit while the monster was deep inside of me. Ken readily obliged and made me cum again. I started to slide up and down on the big cock and told Ken to keep licking as I fucked the massive pole inside of me. My cunt was leaking thick, white globs of cum all over the thick black horse cock. I told Ken to lick it up off of my pussy and the fat cock inside of me. Ken didn't hesitate to do so. My pussy slowly adjusted to the thickness of the huge cock inside me. I pushed Ken away and started to thrust my stretched out pussy up and down on the massive meat inside of me. I wanted to fuck him hard like a whore. I wanted to make him cum. I wanted to know that I was a capable whore, able to take all cummers! I pulled my cunt off of his cock and immediately slammed onto it again, all the way to the bottom of my pussy; I repeatedly did the same thing for a few minutes and came a few more times until I felt him begin to swell inside of me. I leaned over and whispered in his ear that I wanted him to fuck me hard like a whore and to fill me full of his thick, hot cum. A few minutes later, I got what I wanted, another load of cum inside of me, which I ordered Ken to eat out of my tender and swollen cunt. We all took a rest for a while and then they fucked me and used Ken all night long...

  Ed stared out over a sea of hopeful wizard-eyes and wonders how he gets himself into these kinds of situations. Then he remembers he’s here as a favor to Mustang, and cheers up a little because that means any and all things that go wrong can be blamed on the Fuhrer Bastard.  (He was up late working on the array for teleportation. One of the few pros about body-sharing with Truth is that you mostly get to skip out on paying any outrageous tolls to use the Gate, which is good because Ed is running low on nonessential body parts.) Granger had proudly introduced him to this little headache-inducing bunch, inside a headache-inducing magic room, and asked him point-blank to teach them to be badasses like him.  Ed considered this for a moment, and thought about what it meant to be badass. He considered his childhood trauma, his daddy issues, his child-soldier status, his body count, and the current state of his sanity before telling Granger that he decidedly could not teach them to be badasses like him, but he could show them a thing or two about throwing a punch. Granger looked pleased, and Ed glanced at her warily before going back to worrying about how he was going to do this without letting on to the fact that he technically doesn’t have any limbs. Which feels more natural , he wonders, Truth’s arm or the automail?  So as he goes around the room and demonstrates how to make a fist, he tests this a little. Letting kids hold his fists, feel how his fingers are arranged, and watching their faces carefully to see which hand provokes a stronger reaction- the left or the right. Truth’s hand doesn’t have actual knuckles or fingernails. It’s kind of just a glowing blob that he has to actively assert consciousness over to force it into anything more than a simple facsimile of humanity. (Wow, he’s feeling poetic today.) Alternatively, the automail clicks and hisses when he moves it. Quietly, but there if you’re listening for it. And it’s utterly unmistakably not flesh, even through his gloves, if you touch it. There’s a reason he only punches real assholes with his right fist.  “Right, hokay!” he claps twice (no alchemy, thank you) and the victims- aha, he means- the students look up, startled. “Ve vill begin to practise zis by dividing eento pairs! Zen throving our best punches at von anozzer in ze face! Eef you do not haffe a black eye by ze end of ze night, your partner eez failing und zey vill run laps vile ze rest of us throw rocks at zem! Zis should be adequate motivation, ja?” The unnamed club immediately regrets ever signing up for this. The SA (Survival Association, they decided, was a perfectly acceptable name, because really, that was what they were being trained at by Professor Elric. Survival.) got exponentially better at healing spells, and everyone simultaneously dreaded and anticipated the silver rings they all wore heating up and vibrating in a specific pattern that conveyed the Morse code equivalent of ‘ elric tonight’ , which meant meeting at the Room of Requirement at the indicated time for about three hours or so of educational hell. (The rings were an ingeniously designed collaboration between Ed and Hermione, formed with alchemy and hidden by magic, so you could only see one if you had one too.  If they were twisted in a specific way, a small spike would pop out, tipped with a poison that would knock out anyone who was stabbed with it for at least four hours. Because you never knew when you might need a poisoned spike for an unexpected sneak attack. You just never knew.)  Tonight’s lesson, since Ed was in unusually good spirits after tripping the Toad in the hallway, was on the art of making boot-leather stew.The SA were all sitting cross-legged in a circle, staring dubiously at the steaming bowl in front of them. “Zho you see,” Elric said, stirring the bowl a little, “eet ez a very zhimple brocess. Vhonse ze leather has been zhoftened und disinfected by ze boiling, you cahn chew ohn eet vith leetle difficulty. Very nutritional, boot leather stew. Try some, try some!” he insisted, eye bright with laughter. “Boot leather stew saved mein life, you know. I vas stuck een un alternate dimension und zhere vas nozing but darkness, blood, mien friend, mienself, und ze clothes on our backs. Vhe made boot leather stew, mien friend und I, und ve lived to escape und kill ze creature zat put us zhere. Eet vas un very educational experience. Be grateful I do not make you eat boot leather stew made vith blood rather zhan vater! Tastes very rusty, und goes down most unpleasantly.” The SA stared at Elric in horror until Harry, brave man that he is, slowly fished a floating chunk of leather out of the bubbling brown water and stuffed it in his mouth, jaw working at it as the rest of the SA watched in horrified fascination. His expression cycled between disgust, thoughtfulness, consideration, surprise, and finally a slight satisfaction.  “Not… bad ,” he mumbled through a mouthful of boot leather, and the room exploded into chaos. Hogwarts life goes on, and Umbridge is still a massive bitch. She puts out her ‘educational decrees’ like there’s no damn tomorrow, and Ed sneers at them. She whispers about how Ed’s a filthy halfbreed, and Ed ignores her. She makes disparaging remarks about his height, and Ed lets Truth control the body so that he doesn’t bash her skull in. She taunts him about alchemy, and Ed makes a hasty escape before Truth can rip the eyeballs out of her face.  It’s like a little dance, except Ed’s developing a nervous tic. His left eye twitches like mad every time he catches sight of the color pink. Every. Time.  Potter, one of his other favorites, comes in smelling like blood every now and then, and that made Ed a little jumpy. He knew something was up with Potter. Nobody volunteered themself for the Boot Leather Stew without some serious underlying psychological issues going on. (Luckily for Ed and Ling in Gluttony’s stomach, where the original Boot Leather Stew had been brewed, they were both a little mad by then already. Mad and desperate. Nobody tries Boot Leather Stew unless they’re mad and desperate. Sitting in a classroom in a low-risk situation makes for one, possibly, but not usually both. Something is Up about Potter, and Ed intends to find out what.) And when he makes Potter stay after class and confronts him, the teen is real shady about it, hiding his hand behind his back, looking away as he insists nothing’s wrong. It takes the threat of two extra essays for homework to get him talking, and it turns out that Umbridge is, somehow, worse than Ed thought.  This is a problem.   

There are times when life doesn't go as planned. Not human plans, necessarily. They're all but made to go awry. We're talking about the big plans. Universal plans. Fate, if you will. Because chaos is the darnedest thing when it puts it's mind to something. -- "Oh." That's all Tony can think to say while looking at what was the man about to kill him. And Tony says "was" because now he's pretty much, well, paste. "Oh my god - that is disgusting!" Pepper stumbles a hasty step back after wiggling out of the remains of the town car and holds the collapsible armor in front of herself like a shield. Tony's still stuck on the paste thing, because his brain is informing him that it's impossible for the guy who just landed on top of Crazy Guy to be alive. Much less climbing to his feet, however unsteadily, and brushing a hand over bloodied leather. "Oh," he says, and collapses in a pile of green, gold, and black at Tony's feet. -- "Tony," Pepper says with quiet urgency, one hand gripping the door frame, the other reluctantly letting go of the bottled waters Tony's relieving her of. "This is not a good idea." "Great!" Tony says with a megawatt grin, shooing her out the door. She will not be shooed, as if keeping her eyes on Tony's visitor will keep him out of trouble. "You can't just put him in your hotel room like this - you don't know anything about him!" "Sure I do," Tony assures her. "He saved my life. What more do I need to know?" And he's interesting. Guys don't just fall out of the sky like this every day in Tony's experience - unless they're him. Probably best not to make that case to Pepper. "Listen, I'm fine. Have Happy take you and Natalie to that restaurant you like. Charge it to Stark Industries." "I'm the CEO, Tony. You can't tell me what to charge to Stark Industries anymore." "Well there you go! Have the caviar." He eases her hand from the door frame and guides her by it into the hallway. "Treat the whole place." She grips Tony's arm before Tony can close the door in her face. "Did you know anything about this beforehand?" It's kind of novel to be able to look Pepper in the eyes and tell her the unvarnished truth these days. Tony shrugs and shakes his head. "Nope. I can definitely say he wasn't part of today's plan." "There was a plan?" Pepper's eyebrows rise. "A plan that involved racing a F1 on an international track and almost getting killed by an insane lunatic with some kind of electrowhip?" Tony raises his hands. "To be fair, getting killed wasn't part of the plan, the electrowhip was super lame, and insane lunatic is redundant. I'd call him a homicidal lunatic." Pepper looks neither impressed nor appeased. "Seriously. Getting killed was really not part of today's plan." An option, sure, but it's not like he has a bullet point list these days with "die in fiery race car crash" penciled in after cocktail hour. That's kind of the point. "Sometimes I wonder these days," Pepper says, watching him closely, concern plain on her face. Tony gives her a half smile and shrugs again. What can he really say to that? "Still alive, right?" For now. "Right," she says after a delay just too long. He gently removes her fingers from his arm and gives them a squeeze. "Go have fun. Show Natalie the world." "She's seen more of the world than I have," Pepper's protesting when Tony finally closes the door between them and leans back on it. Tony blows air out between his lips and rakes his fingers through his hair, surveying the situation. "Okay." One not-dead guy who fell from the sky in leather and armor sprawled out on his bed. No Pepper. Currently not dead himself. Potential assassin presumably being scraped off the racetrack by someone else. As things go, hopping into that race car was not the worst life choice Tony's ever made. So Tony does what any other reasonable billionaire would do in his place. He picks up the phone and orders room service and Pay Per View. He's idly eating a french fry when Not-Dead Guy shows signs of life on the bed, groaning and curling up around his ribs. "Norns." "Scotch on the bed stand," Tony says without looking at him. The great thing about dying-but-not-yet is this awesome freedom to just see what happens next. If it weren't for the inevitable looming death by palladium, it'd be the best thing that ever happened to him. "What is..." The mutter trails off with a clink, a quiet sniff, and the sound of a long stiff drink. Tony waits until he hears the guy flop back onto the bed with another heartfelt groan before turning away from the TV. "So," Tony says with less recklessness than he could, "drop in around here often?" The baleful glare he receives for his troubles is a little marred by the fact his guest can't seem to focus his eyes just yet. He mutters something that sounds vaguely Skandinavian and throws an arm over his face. Tony catches a word that sounds suspiciously like "father," in there a couple of times, though and the tone of voice? Well, that's universal. He takes a long drink of chlorophyll and a wild guess. "Odin really needs to find a new schtick." The guy's head snaps up, arm falling away to brace himself on the bed as if he's about to lunge. Escape or attack, Tony doesn't really know or care. See? Interesting. Tony holds up his hands in surrender. "Or you might not be Asgardian at all. What do I know? I'm just a drunk guy making wild guesses." He is not, in point of fact, drunk. But he can play it for TV. The guy flops back with a strained high-pitched giggle. "No," he manages between gasps. "And also yes. I am Nobody of Nowhere, burdened with no purpose at all." Tony's beginning to think he may have made a slight miscalculation leaving the bottle of scotch within the guy's reach when he picks it up and drinks straight from the bottle as if it was water. "Uh, how about we start with a name?" "A name, yes," he mutters. "For even the All Father himself would not take my name." He takes another long slug and reclines, sprawling, into the bed's pillows. "Loki," he says simply. Which means he's right about the whole Asgardian thing, but also missing a metric fuck ton of information, and honestly, this is already the most fun he's had since auditioning the Ironettes. "Wouldn't happen to know a guy named Thor would you?" It's a stab in the not-quite-dark, but like Tony said, it's not every day a guy drops out of the sky and survives. In fact, the precedent is pretty limited. Thor. And now, apparently, Loki. Asgardians. Go figure. Tony's personal Asgardian closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath before saying with the kind of calm that comes right before a storm, "He was my brother." Catching the expression on Tony's face, he adds, "Oh, he's quite alive." The smile he levels at Tony is not particularly pleasant. "And no kin of mine." Never let it be said that Tony can't add two plus two and come up with family issues. "Well," he says. "Since you're here, and apparently my guest..." He swings the wheeled room service cart around to sit between his chair and the bed. "Hungry?" Loki looks from the food to Tony's face, eyes narrow and assessing. "Famished," he says at last, all traces of suspicion and Tragic Backstory vanishing as if the entire conversation before hadn't happened. And he's not lying about the famished thing. He doesn't say another word as he eats, and Tony calls room service two more times (hey, a guy's gotta have dessert) before Loki slows and leans away from the cart, idly nibbling a florentine. He's still wearing the bloodied clothes, which Tony feels like he should be objecting to more than he is, but it's not like there's a spare change of clothing in the dresser for the guy. He does look a lot less like he's going to keel over if he stands up, though. "Have you a name?" Loki asks, licking a bit of chocolate off his thumb. It's distracting. "Tony," Tony says after a moment. "Tony Stark." He can't even remember the last time he had to genuinely introduce himself to someone. "Thank you, Tony, Tony Stark," Loki says with a smile that says he's parroting Tony's words only for the fun of it, " for your hospitality." He pushes himself off the bed and looks down at himself in obvious distaste. "I would bathe now," he says, like someone used to having his requests fulfilled. Not that Tony's particularly used to fulfilling requests like that himself, but he guesses the novelty hasn't worn off yet. It's not every day an atheist gets a god in his hotel room. "Sure, okay. Right through here. I'll show you how to work the taps." He leaves Loki to his own devices and his own straps and buckles, because he'll draw a bath for the guy, but he draws the line at helping him out of gore-encrusted clothes. Bluntly put, he stinks, and the idea of scrubbing eau de rotting villain out from under his fingernails doesn't really appeal. Tony busies himself with having the room service carts cleared away and phoning the concierge for a wardrobe in a few different sizes for a guy about 6'2". The clothes are there before Loki emerges from the bath in a cloud of steam. It's a classy hotel, and a good concierge never asks the high rollers too many questions. There's even a tux. Loki stops short in the bathroom doorway, wrapped in a towel, staring at the clothes on the bed. Tony waves a hand. "Help yourself. Didn't know what you'd want to wear." He ignores the quick half-wary glance in his direction, but watches Loki curiously hold up one garment and then the next, and then disappear back into the bathroom with a bundle of black clothing. Tony flips the channel and watches Nova. The Ever Expanding Universe. Wasn't that the truth. He picks up his Starkpad for a bit of idle Googling, only setting it aside once the door snicks open. This time, Loki enters the room in a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved henley, barefoot. Tony tosses him a comb, and Loki snatches it out of the air faster than Tony can blink. He knows for a fact because he did. Blink. And when he opened his eyes again, Loki was frowning intently while working the comb through a tangle. "This hospitality," he says eventually, with less hesitance than Tony might have expected, "does it come at any particular cost?" "No strings," Tony says. There might've been strings, or at least an offer of strings once, but palladium poisoning does wonders for killing the libido. Loki looks surprised. And something else Tony wants to identify as disappointed, but he's allowed his imagination. Leave a dying guy his happy fantasies. "Why?" Loki asks. "You're interesting," Tony says. "And, technically, you probably saved my life. So I owe you one." Loki cocks his head to the side. "The second is a lie." He sits down once more on the bed, working through the rest of his tangled hair with an uncomfortable sound of breakage with each pull. Tony wonders if he should mention conditioner as a thing. "Is your life in danger regularly?" Tony laughs at that. He can't help it because - well, really. "My life is always in danger. Haven't you heard of Iron Man where you're from?" "No," Loki says, looking Tony over. "I see no iron." Tony jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the case. "Metaphorically speaking. Technically, my armor's a gold-titanium alloy." Loki's eyebrows rise at that. "As is mine. I was not aware Midgardians had yet achieved that level of technology." "Excuse you." Tony snorts. "I'm not just any Midgardian." "I'm beginning to see that." Loki sets aside the comb once his hair is all neatly slicked back and takes another florentine from the plate beside the bed, eating it with no particular hurry. "So, Loki," Tony says with a bit more emphasis on the name. "God of mischief, herald of Ragnorok, winner of Sexiest Horse Ever..." Loki snorts at the last and chews his cookie. Very slowly. Very thoroughly. And holding Tony's eyes in a way that makes Tony hold his breath. "No," he says at last. "No? I hate to break it to you, buddy, but there's a whole Wikipedia article on you," he says, just to see what Loki will do. It's a thing. That he does now, apparently. "I see," he says, cocking his head. "It seems your Wikipedia is greatly out of date." "It got more scandalous after the horse and we don't know about it?" Tony feigns a gasp and clutches his chest. Loki waits for Tony to finish the drama before answering, "I was named after him." "The horse?" "Loki. Ragnorok has come and gone, Tony Stark. And that Loki had lived at Odin's side for millennia, sometimes foe, sometimes bosom friend. The All Father alone survived that icy end to all things." Loki's smile turns bitter. "I had thought I was named after him to honor what friendship they once shared. But I have seen, of late, that my assumption was incorrect." He shakes his head. "I am scarcely more than a thousand of your human years old, and those stories have existed in your world far longer than that." Because Tony has never been all that great at social niceties or letting someone change the subject on him before he's gotten all his answers, he asks, "Why were you named after him, then?" "For ice," Loki intones, "and ruin." And that's getting a little too close to over-serious territory for Tony's tastes, so he says, "Should I be disappointed you're not really the God of Mischief?" "Now," Loki says, with a return of that small amused smile, "I didn't say that." Tony deliberately leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "And what if I don't believe you?" "Your belief is not required." Loki narrows his eyes. "But you want it," Tony can't resist saying with a smirk. "Go ahead." He waves a hand. "Do something godly." "You may regret you ever asked that, Tony Stark," Loki says and stands, flexing his fingers. He looks around him and then waves an arm in a grand gesture at the bed. Nothing happens. "Well, I've been called a god in bed, too. That doesn't necessarily mean anyth-kk!" Tony clutches at the fingers clenched around his throat, trying to pry them loose. He concedes that, maybe, this show of strength is good enough to believe Loki is who he says he is. That, and surviving the fall out of a clear blue sky while turning the guy he landed on into human jam. Loki waves his hand again, and again, nothing happens other than a few desperate gurgles out of Tony. "No. He cannot have!" His fingers flex on Tony's neck, and Tony scrabbled urgently at them until Loki drops him all at once. He falls back into his chair, panting and trying to ignore the roughness in his voice. "Who what, now?" Loki spins to take in the room, empty except for the two of them, and then lifts his head to face the ceiling, teeth bared. "Odin," he seethes, "in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to strip me of my powers to teach me a lesson." Tony rubs his throat. "I'm a pretty good teacher," he offers. Loki favors him with a look of mingled amusement and terror-inducing craziness. "You would teach me the value of restraining my impulses? Of accepting the wisdom of my elders? I think not." Tony has to admit he's got him there. He gives Loki an apologetic half smile. "You're not wrong." Loki huffs and turns to stare unseeingly at the muted television. "And so it would seem that I am stuck here until the All Father decides I have learned the error of my ways." "Could be worse," Tony says with a half shrug and the most epic bad idea of all bad ideas ever. When Loki glances his way with a raised eyebrow, Tony explains, "I've got more money than I know what to do with and I'm feeling generous." "You would have me stay with you while I am banished to Midgard?" Loki doesn't sound put off by the notion, at least. And Tony knows a calculated look when he gets one. "Let's put it this way," he says. "You ever been to Italy?" They go to Italy, above Pepper's objections and without Happy. Tony just buys a car, checks out of the hotel, and hits the Autostrada dei Fiori. Five hours later, they're in Florence. Loki's spent most of that time staring out the window and working up a good fury, occasionally muttering darkly at the clear sky above them. As conversations go, it's not the most stimulating discussion Tony's ever had on the road, but the drive and the roadster are enough to keep Tony happily entertained until Loki rejoins the land of the verbose. It happens once the Florentine bellboy sets down their bags, collects a hefty tip from Tony, and shuts the door behind them. "The device you used to gather information about me in the other hotel," Loki says, "what was it?" Tony's a little disappointed Loki didn't spend any time appreciating their very expensive and elegantly appointed suite, but the guy's apparently an alien prince, so Tony figures he can let that one go. "Starkpad," he says and fishes so it out of his shoulder bag. He turns it on and hands it over. Loki turns it over in his hands. "And this contains all the information in your world?" "Uh, not exactly. It connects to the internet." Tony's pretty sure Loki's never heard of that either, so he adds, "and that contains most of the information in our world. Along with a lot of bullshit." Loki raises his eyebrows at that and folds himself comfortably onto the deep blue sofa without so much as a glance toward the window in the next room or the undeniably spectacular view. "Show me how it works." It is not, Tony notes, a request. And that shouldn't make him smile, but it does. "Why not?" Once Loki's got the hang of Google, Tony steps out onto the terrace overlooking the Arno and pulls out his phone. "Good afternoon, Sir," Jarvis greets him as soon as he has the phone to his ear. "Hey, J. Has Pepper sent out a search team yet?" "Not as yet, sir, but she threatened to do so in her last three messages." "How many messages has she left?" "Twelve since this morning, sir." There's a click on the line and Jarvis corrects himself, "Thirteen, sir." "Anything I need to know about?" "Only that she requests you call her within the next thirty minutes if you do not wish to be declared a missing person." Tony laughs and drags over a chair, sitting down and propping his feet on the railing. "Put me through to her, will you?" "Yes, sir." "Tony!" "Pepper!" Tony echoes in the same tone. "This isn't funny, Tony! Where are you?" Tony toes off his shoes and puts his feet back up on the balcony bare to the warm sun. "Florence." "Florence." Her tone is more disbelieving than it should be because - really - she's known him how long, now? "Florence Italy, Florence." "That's the one. Did you know it's only five hours by car from Monaco?" "Five and a half," Pepper corrects him. "So I was driving slow and enjoying the view." Tony can't help but smile at the expression he knows she's wearing. "Listen, Pep, everything is fine. I'm just taking a little vacation." "Monaco was a little vacation." "And then Hammer showed up. What kind of a vacation is it with Justin Hammer around?" Tony wiggles his toes. "I'm taking a vacation from my vacation." "You - ". He can hear her take a deep breath before she finishes that thought. "You have responsibilities, Tony. You have a company to run. You can't just take off like this whenever you want to." "Pretty sure I can," he says, and his smile is genuine. "Besides, you're the one with the company to run and all the responsibilities Now. I'm categorically irresponsible. Everyone agrees." "I can't believe you." He hears a disappointed note in her voice he hasn't heard in a long time, and it makes him feel just a little guilty. A little. "You're just giving up like that?" "Who's giving up?" Tony feels justified in protesting that one. She may not know about the palladium poisoning, but it's not giving up for a man to want to enjoy his last weeks of life. "Pepper, I promise you everything is fine. I'm going to stay here for a while, soak up the Mediterranean sun, and then I'll be back." "Will you?" Probably. Maybe. "Would I lie to you?" He asks instead. "Yes." Tony wrinkles his nose and watches a gondola float a pair of tourists under the bridge. "You're right. I should work on that." He listens to her silence on the other end and pictures her drumming her fingers. She drums her fingers when she's trying to figure out how to bring something up with him. "And the mystery guy?" Tony glances into the suite to find Loki looking back at him. For a moment, Tony considers telling the truth. But then Pepper would come up with at least three good reasons why this was a bad idea even by his standards, and Tony's having too much fun to let himself be talked out of it. "That was pretty crazy, wasn't it?" He says. "Not every day a guy just drops out of the sky. It's kind of like the Wizard of Oz when you think of it." Tony pauses to grin at Loki, "Although he was a little tall for Dorothy." "What?" "You know. 'Begone! Before somebody drops a guy on you!'" "Tony," Pepper says tiredly. "What? It's a valid pop cultural reference for a genuinely weird experience." Pepper groans. "Goodbye, Tony. Just... Be careful?" "I'm always careful," Tony says with the cavalier attitude that only comes from years of being thoroughly reckless. He hangs up the phone to find Loki standing just inside the doorway, out of the sun, holding the Starkpad. "I look nothing like this Dorothy." "No," Tony has to agree, "but you did drop down on my own personal Wicked Witch like an avenging angel out of Kansas." Loki, it appears, chooses to ignore that one. "You would do well to forget everything you learned of me from this Wikipedia of yours," he says instead. "That inaccurate?" Loki hesitates before answering, a broken look flickering over his face. "That Loki is not me." "Victim of bad PR, huh?" Tony can understand that one well enough. "He was not remembered fondly," Loki says after another moment of watching the river flow by. "And there were few, even in Asgard, who saw me as I am as a result." Which only serves to make Tony more curious. "So who are you?" He lets Loki make of the question whatever he wants and is surprised when, after an assessing silence, Loki answers with: "I am my brother's shadow." He sets down the Starkpad to clasp his hands, one thumb rubbing absently against the other wrist. "And his conscience, not that anyone but mother ever realized it." His smile is definitely back in the bitter territory, and Tony guesses he can't blame him from what little he's managed to glean so far. "I am at once Asgard's most skilled seiðrmann and the monster that lurks under her beds. I would once have done anything for Asgard and her people." "But now?" Tony prompts when the silence stretches on a little too long. Loki lifts a shoulder and let's it drop. "What help would she want from a monster?" That seems to be all he's willing to say on the subject, but Tony has never been accused of ignoring his curiosity. "This monster thing..." He ignores Loki's warning look, too. "I've gotta say you don't seem all that monstrous." "You do not know," is all Loki replies, and it looks like the subject is closed for the time being. "How accurate is your PR on Wikipedia, Tony?" He asks without a trace of awkwardness on the new words. "Eh." Tony rocks a hand back and forth. "It's what I want people to see." "That was not my question," Loki says with a shrewdness Tony can respect. "The parts are all me," Tony admits. "It's just the proportions I fuck around with. It's a lot more glamorous being a jet-setting playboy than a stupidly wealthy grease monkey." If Loki is unfamiliar with any of those terms, he doesn't show it. "So you consider yourself more the grease monkey." "Don't forget the stupidly wealthy part," Tony says, pointedly looking around their suite. "I mean, this isn't exactly the Motel 6." "How could I possibly forget it," Loki says with the unimpressed tone only royalty can manage when it comes to Tony's wealth. Tony grins. "Don't worry. We'll work on it and before you know it, you'll be taking all this for granted." He ignores the implicit invitation and Loki's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I've put in the effort to claim the jet setting playboy label. But it's only fun and games for a decade or so before it starts to get old." Or he starts to get old. He shrugs it off. The one good thing about all of this is that Tony Stark will never get old. He'll go out being handsome and in his prime. "It got old?" "Meh," Tony says, shrugging. "I'm happier in my garage, honestly." He's surprised to realize that it's true. And has been since, well, Afghanistan. He likes to be alone. Ish. He's not questioning why Loki's an exception. Loki's just new. Novel. Interesting. He hasn't been this interested in something he didn't build in ages. "I saw footage of you as the Iron Man," Loki says, and Tony wishes he could tell if Loki was impressed. He wants Loki to be impressed. "What did you think?" Tony kind of wonders which footage it was. "Singularly destructive," Loki says, which doesn't narrow it down a lot. A little. But not a lot. He's smiling, though, and that has to be a good sign. "And not one to suffer bullies and fools, I think." "You've got that right," Tony agrees. "But not wantonly destructive." Now Loki's smile is a little strange, but Tony, for once, makes the right decision and doesn't ask. "There is an elegance to it that I can admire." "The destruction or the suit?" Loki huffs out a laugh and looks across the river. "Both." "Right," Tony reminds himself. "God of chaos." "There is a difference between chaos and destruction, as I have been recently reminded," Loki corrects him before closing his eyes and turning his head away. It occurs to Tony that Loki said something earlier about being sent to earth without his powers as a punishment until he learned his lesson. He wants to ask, he really does. But he's just not ready to be That Guy. "I used to specialize in wholesale destruction," Tony offers. "The rest is newish." He rubs his palms on his jeans. "Just saying, a guy can change." "But can he redeem himself?" Loki asks, and Tony would bet he's not expecting an answer, but Tony has never been one to do the expected thing. "I'll get back to you on that one when I've got an answer." Tony pushes his toes into the warm railing and tips his chair back on two legs. "Redemption's overrated." "Then what is it you're trying to accomplish?" Loki's staring at Tony's feet like they're fascinating. Tony gives it some thought and flexes his toes on the metal. "Fixing what I broke." "Some things cannot be fixed." A hunted expression flickers over Loki's face and is gone as quickly as the others. "Well, no," Tony agrees, "not fixed in the sense of making everything like it was. But there's always the possibility of making everything better." "And that is what you do?" "I'm trying to." It should be weird, being this honest, this open, with a guy he's just met. But it's not, and Tony's inclined to go with it. Not every day that an honest to god god drops into your life. Tony almost feels like it's an opportunity to be taken advantage of. Besides, Loki's decent company. Tony's reminder beeps and he swears under his breath, pushing himself up out of the chair. "Gotta do a thing," he says. "Be right back." Loki watches him curiously, but doesn't ask, and Tony's glad, because he's actually enjoying this break from reality and pretending everything's completely normal. The device beeps and Tony shakes his hand before sticking his finger in his mouth. Blood toxicity 72%. Hell with it. Tony walks back out onto the balcony, draws back his arm, and pitches the blood toxicity meter over the railing, watching until it splashes into the Arno. He wipes his pricked finger on his jeans and realizes Loki is staring at him. He offers a winning smile and gestures grandly. "You know what rich Americans do in Italy, Loki?" "Senselessly discard small electronic devices into the nearest body of water?" Loki guesses with a straight face. "No. That part's all me." Tony leans back on the railing and tips his head up toward the sun. "We go out on the town and make complete asses of ourselves." Loki makes a noise of distaste. "I have had my fill of drunken carousing, thank you." "Hey, there's more ways to make a complete ass of yourself than carousing," Tony objects. "Oh?" And that's how they find themselves sitting at an outdoor cafe on the Piazza Della Repubblica watching the tourists go by, one sunburnt face at a time. Loki, Tony notes with some amusement, fades further into the shade of their table umbrella with each one. "Your kind do this to relax?" Loki asks eventually, after a pair of harried English parents herd their three sweaty, complaining children past the cafe for the second time, arguing over who lost the map. "Just to relax? Come on, this is the trip of a lifetime for most of them." Tony takes a sip of his third glass of white wine. He'll order another bottle eventually. "You don't relax on trips of a lifetime. You keep going until you drag your sunburnt ass back home and show up for work wishing you had another week off. Loki looks dubious about humanity's survival instincts. "Surely there are preferable destinations, at least." "Sure, if this isn't your thing. Most people come here for the art and history." "History?" Loki's lips twist in a mixture of amusement and disdain. "What cares a being who lives less than a century for events of half a millennia ago?" Tony gives it some thought before answering, seeing as he's answering for his entire species and everything. "Continuity," he concludes eventually, "I guess. We don't live long enough to experience this much change personally, so we connect to the past the only way we can." "But why dwell on the past when the future is all you have?" The question sounds more weighted than the topic warrants, so Tony answers carefully. "There's a saying here on Earth that all major discoveries are made by men standing on the shoulders of the greats who came before." Tony refills his wine glass. "Everyone needs a place to stand." He glances sideways at Loki. "Even you, I'll bet." Loki looks away across the piazza at a dog chasing pigeons and says, almost too quietly for Tony to understand him. "More than you know." "Want to go find a few greats to stand on?" Tony tosses the wine back at one go, ignoring the dirty look he gets from the sommelier. "I have my doubts that your so-called greats will have much to impress me with after a thousand years in Asgard." Loki sniffs. Honest to god sniffs his disdain. Tony hides a laugh. "Oh, come on. At least you can come be impressed by the sheer level of our stupidity. I give you full permission to mock us." "And what is your permission worth?" "Not much in this case," Tony admits. "But it'll make it more fun listening to your Puny Mortal spiel." Loki frowns at him and folds his arms over his chest again. "I have no such spiel." "Seriously?" Loki nods. "That's just wrong." Tony throws a thick handful of euros down on the table and stands up. "What are they teaching you kids in god school these days?" "The art of surprise," Loki answers easily, drinking down the last of his espresso and shutting his eyes in bliss. "I admit, your coffee comes very close to impressing me." "Italian coffee comes close to impressing me," Tony says. "Just don't try the swill they pass off in most of America. It'll destroy all your fantasies and leave you broken and longing for Italy." Loki only raises his eyebrows. Whether it's because he understood none of that or because he has nothing to say, Tony will never know. "Introduce me to these greats," Loki commands, and Tony would bet real money he's doing the imperious thing on purpose. Maybe Florence is rubbing off on his inner Prince. "You want greats? I'll give you a great." And that's how they end up spending the afternoon in Florence touring the history of human science. Because when you want to impress with the greats, you go with what you know. It takes the better part of the afternoon, but Loki is impressed. "And he used no magic, you say?" Loki asks again, fixating on the turning point of his own opinion of da Vinci as they exit into the overcast evening. "I could've built all of that," Tony says, slightly put out by Loki's decision to fanboy a guy who died over 500 years ago when he's got a real live certified supergenius inventor walking right next to him. He'd wanted Loki impressed, not infatuated. "And all of mine would've worked, too." "His would have worked with magic," Loki points out. "Yeah, well you can even fly a broom if you've got enough magic, I hear." Loki stops short to stare at him. "Why would anyone want to fly a broom?" Tony shrugs. "Beats me. I think it has something to do with ingrained misogyny and general human xenophobia. You'd have to ask Pepper." Loki gives him another of those looks that Tony is beginning to recognize as his 'how have your kind survived all these millennia?' expression. "I take it Asgard is an egalitarian utopia," Tony snarks, because, of course, it would be. He's surprised, however, by Loki's sudden burst of genuine laughter. "Norns, you must be joking." Loki snickers into his hand, trying to stop laughing without success. "Asgard is it's own particular hell of machismo." "Tough to be a woman in Asgard, huh?" Loki snorts. "At times. I find the native Asgardian women who are so inclined to participate in warrior culture are the most unforgivingly macho of all." He runs his fingers over a railing as they pass. "My mother, the queen, is of Vanaheim. Would that more of Asgard followed her example rather than Odin's. " "I never took you for sexist," Tony comments offhand because he's aware of his own glass house there. Loki's lips curve. "I never said only Asgardian women should follow her example." When Tony just stares at him, trying to work that one out, he continues, "my mother is a skilled seiðkona. She could fell a battalion with a wave of her hand should she choose to do so." They walk in silence for a time while Tony chews that over. "Is that a Vanaheim thing?" Loki shakes his head. "Aesir have the ability. But it is Ergi." "Come again?" "It unmans one." Loki's eyes flick over Tony in a way he has more interest in than a dying guy should. And he's clearly hallucinating. "It is a discipline for women only." Instead of going there, he heads in a different direction. "I never did get the meathead belief that you're not really fighting unless you're putting yourself in personal danger." "You seemed to be in some jeopardy when I arrived." "You remember that?" The words are out of Tony before he can stop them on the vague possibility that falling out of the sky might be a bad memory for Loki. "Everything up to the landing," Loki admits with a grimace. Without thinking about it, Tony slings a companionable arm around Loki's waist and gives him a pat. "Yeah, I know. The falling's never all that bad, but the landing is a bitch." "Just so," Loki says after a moment of what might be surprise in which they both realize where Tony's arm is. Loki doesn't pull away. So Tony leaves his arm where it is. "That particular personal jeopardy wasn't my idea, you know." Tony says a little further down the street. "And you did kind of drop in before I could put on my armor." "Your armor is most impressive," Loki agrees. "Perhaps I will have another chance to witness it in action." "Be careful what you wish for. I tend not to walk around in it unless I'm being attacked or trying to impress people." "Were you not trying to impress me?" Loki asks with a perfectly straight face. "Yeah. Sure. Up until you decided to throw me over for old Leo." The hurt is feigned. The flirting, to his surprise, is entirely real. Tony examines it for half a minute and then shrugs it off. Why not? He's dying. He can do whatever the hell he wants with his last days and no court would convict him. Tony will flirt with all the gods if he wants to. Especially gods who look him over like that, because he can't honestly remember the last time he felt real sexual interest. He's got no clue about the follow-through at this point in his downward spiral, but he's putting this one in the 'worth it' column even if all he gets out of it is a cheap thrill. "You do have a certain recklessly youthful charm he lacks," Loki says once he's looking Tony in the eye again. Tony's not sure whether to be offended or flattered all to hell. "Nobody's accused me of being youthful in at least five years. Immature, sure. But youthful nev-" He's cut off by the press of lips on his and clutches at Loki's waist in his surprise. "This is sudden," he gasps when he can breathe, standing there in Loki's space with his hands against a cool chest and equally chill arms wrapped around him. The arms start to loosen, and Tony makes a quick grab to keep them right where they are. "Hey now, let's not be hasty." Loki regards him with clear wariness, but he does not remove his arms. Tony decides to throw caution and good sense to the wind and pulls Loki down to kiss him again until they're both breathless. "That was good," Tony says, in case it's not clear. Loki gives him a look like he's an idiot, so he guesses it was plenty clear. Loki is not, however, looking wary anymore. Tony's trying to figure out a way to invite Loki back to the suite that's not smarmy or cashing checks his libido might not be able to pay when the overcast sky chooses that moment to open wide and drench them to the skin. "Goddamn," Tony sputters, wiping rain out of his eyes and shading them with one hand. It only makes chill rainwater slither down his spine, and his clothes are already starting to stick, but Loki's eyes are wide with shock, and his lips are still parted. His hair is plastered to his face and over his shoulders, and Tony coughs on rain right before he starts laughing because the walk home is going to suck, sure, but this is ridiculous. Loki swipes his hair out of his face, giving it three quick twists and jamming a stolen Museo Galileo ball point pen through the mass of it. "Not a word, Tony Stark." He pushes a fallen lock behind his ear. It drips. "Couldn't've formed words if I tried." Tony's still grinning and his seduction plans are shot all to hell, because he's well aware Loki's not the only one looking like a drowned cat with water squelching out of his shoes, and he acknowledges it's probably for the best. "So, I happen to know a guy who's got a nice warm, dry hotel suite with a borderline awe inspiring tub and shower." "Are you inviting me to share them with you?" Loki asks in a low voice, and Tony feels another ba-bump skip behind the arc reactor. "And here I was trying to be the suave guy and figure out how to proposition you without sounding corny," Tony says, pitched just above the rain, which isn't getting any less wet, but at least it's giving them an illusion of privacy as everyone with sense runs for awnings and indoors. "I find the direct approach works best," Loki advises, laying a tentative hand on Tony's chest. "You know what?" Tony takes his hand and tugs him in the direction of their hotel. "It really does work." Loki's smile can only be described as smug. "I know. So, that was an invitation?" "That was an invitation," Tony confirms, ignoring the little part of him that demands to know what the hell he thinks he's doing. He's got it outvoted anyway. A clear majority of Tony Stark is all aboard and strapped in for the ride. And ride appears to be the operative word when Loki hoists him up once they cross the threshold of the suite, putting them eye to eye when he leans in to press their lips together again. All Tony can really do is wrap his arms and legs around Loki and roll with it. Chasing a teasing tongue with his own and throwing his head back against the wall when Loki's lips move to his throat. Licking the rainwater from his skin. Tony shivers, and it's got only about 7% due to the cold and wet and 93% down to the god who's scraping teeth over the join of shoulder and neck. Tony clenches his fingers in Loki's hair. Because it's good, really good, and he's hoping like hell Loki doesn't get the wrong message out of the fact Tony's only half hard. "Hah- how about that shower?" He puts his effort into breathing again until Loki lifts his head and looks quizzically into his eyes. His eyes flicker down to Tony's neck for a moment but he doesn't put Tony down. Just turns on his heel, carrying Tony straight into the shower as if he weighed nothing with a grin Tony doesn't like the looks of. Tony yelps as the shower heads turn on, soaking them all over again, the water going from warm on chill skin all the way up to almost unbearably hot. He groans. His clothes are sticking to him all over and feel like they weigh a ton when Loki sets him on his feet at last, but he doesn't care. "You did say you wanted a shower, did you not?" Loki asks, and the bastard's not even trying to hide his laughter now. Tony shoves him against the wall, but Loki only laughs more, shaking the hair out of his eyes and going easily. "Very funny." "I think so." Loki runs his hands down Tony's sodden arms, plucking at the hem of his shirt, and Tony's suddenly conscious enough of the creeping black tracery over his chest that that's not what he wants right now. He slips from Loki's grasp, sliding to his knees and doesn't miss the catch in Loki's breath. Looking up through his eyelashes, he's got a good view of one very turned on god. And since Tony's in the business of making all the bad decisions lately (especially when they're really great bad decisions), he slides his palms up Loki's thighs and leans forward to mouth him through wet denim, sucking the water out of the fabric as he goes. The noise Loki makes is all the encouragement Tony needs to tug at the button with his teeth. He's not going to be unbuttoning it with his teeth anytime soon, but it's the idea that counts, and Loki appears to agree, closing his eyes and breathing heavily while Tony finishes the job with his hands and slides Loki into his mouth. "Ah - fuck!" Loki bites off the words and Tony hears the wet slap of Loki's shirt hitting the floor, and long fingers wind their way into his hair, massaging at his scalp and clenching when Tony pulls off with suction that's got to come close to hurting. Loki's trembling just enough for Tony to feel under his palms and a blind thrust leaves a slick trail across Tony's stubble. Tony can't risk mouthing at him around a wide grin. "Been a while?" "Stop killing the mood," Loki answers hoarsely, though the tension in his fingers does the answering for him. "Yeah," Tony answers the fingers, lips brushing right up against Loki. "Me too," he says, deciding there's always later for slow and full of finesse. Right now, he's more interested in taking a god apart and hearing the noise he makes when he comes. The noise, as it turns out, is spectacularly human. As is Loki when he slides to his knees between Tony and the wall, panting. Tony's gotten rid of Loki's shoes and socks and worked the wet skinny jeans off his legs. (A learning experience he will not be recommending to anyone.) He's lathering Loki up with whatever expensive froufrou body wash was in the shower when he finds his voice again. "If you will be so kind as to give me a moment to catch my breath, I will be more than happy to return the favor." Loki's head falls forward and he fixes Tony with a look that could probably wake the dead. The dying? Eh, little more difficult, but A+ for effort. Tony grins and grabs the hand sprayer, rinsing him off. "Paid in full," he lies. Okay, sort of lies, because that was still an experience he would gladly repeat. It's got him tingling in all the right places, anyway. Loki looks skeptical, but he allows Tony to maneuver him to his feet. It's when Tony reaches up to wash Loki's hair that he feels his t-shirt pulled up, and before he can do anything to stop it, it joins Loki's on the floor. Tony reaches for it fruitlessly. "Hey. Seriously. I've got it-" "Please," Loki says, one hand against his collarbone, just sitting there. "I insist." Tony folds his arms across his chest as if he could hide the tracery of black lines that way and finds it suddenly a lot harder to look right at Loki. The way Loki's finger trails up the right side of his neck tells him all he needs to know about the futility of that. What can he say? He hasn't really looked in the he mirror since Monaco. He doesn't plan to look now. Loki rubs a line under the water with his thumb. "It doesn't rub off." "It's under the skin," Tony says, voice tight. "Palladium." Loki looks at him curiously, head tipped to one side. "Why?" It's the big question, isn't it? Tony can only shrug. "Kept me alive this long." Loki's hands leave him abruptly and Tony misses them. "How much longer?" Tony shrugs again and starts scrubbing himself down! wiggling out of his shoes! socks! and jeans when he gets to them. He'll order up more clothes from the concierge. "You know what this conversation needs?" "I'm not certain I dare to ask." Tony snaps off the water once he's done. "Room service," he says with finality. "I categorically refuse to have this conversation on an empty stomach." But he does have the conversation over room service. Some kind of butter garlic seafood Loki appears to like. It's weirdly freeing telling the story to a guy he's barely met. And that, of course, is the part Loki seems stuck on, eyebrows knit in an expression of concern. "I do not understand. If you have only weeks to live, why spend them with me? You have family. Friends..." Loaded words coming from Loki, who's lost all that. He licks a trace of sauce off his knife. "I guess I just want to do whatever I want to do with whoever I want to do it with." He offers Loki a small smile. "Lucky you. You're the whoever." "But why?" "You're interesting," Tony says. "I like that about you. And anyway. It's almost my birthday. I don't want to have some boring old party and do the exact same thing I do every year. I intend to celebrate in the style to which I have become accustomed." "Nearly getting yourself killed?" Loki asks, deadpan. "Ha ha. Funny guy." Tony points his fork at Loki before going in for another piece of shrimp. "No. We're going to spend my birthday in Venice. I intend to turn 39 floating on a gondola while you feed me strawberries dipped in the finest French champagne." Loki's eyebrows are climbing with each word. "Or, you know, scaring the mice out of the walls somewhere with a spectacular view while we fuck," Tony adds, because hey, that's always an option, too. Loki gives a snort. "I will do my utmost to accommodate your wish." He sets aside his food and cards a finger through Tony's damp hair. "So all of this," he gestures between the two of them, "is because you're dying and have nothing to lose?" Tony feels a pang of the regret he's been refusing to let himself indulge in and smiles a twisted little smile. "No. This was just great luck with terrible timing. I really am sorry about that." Loki's fingers hesitate a moment before continuing. It feels nice. "I should be the one who's sorry. If I had my magic, I could heal you." "You don't even know what's wrong with me." "I don't need to," Loki says, but doesn't elaborate. It's a depressing topic, and Loki seems to be climbing on board for the Happy Tony Stark Project one evasion at a time. "Just lousy timing," Tony says with a shrug. "Terrible." "The worst," Tony says, leaning into Loki's space. "Well," Loki says against his lips, "there are some perks..." There continue to be perks. There continue to be perks, conversation, good food, and, surprisingly, even an argument two days before Tony's birthday, which Loki wins. "I'd rather drive," Tony grumbles, watching as their luggage is loaded onto the bellhop's trolley and wondering when had Loki acquired more luggage than he had. Loki glances at him with a tiny smile and then tips generously from - wait, what? "That's my wallet!" "Is it?" Loki looks down at it in apparent surprise. "It is!" The wallet disappears into his inner coat pocket. "I'd best hold onto it for you so you don't lose it again." Tony's so speechless, he doesn't even protest when Loki holds the door and ushers him into the town car. Loki seems to be enjoying himself so much at playing human that, by the time they're flying over Switzerland, Tony's pretty much convinced that Loki talked him into spending his birthday in the "Venice of the North" instead of regular old Venice just so that he could experience flying in a plane like a mere mortal. "It's remarkable, what humans have accomplished since Asgard last withdrew," Loki says to the window, watching the Alps pass below, and doing nothing to change Tony's suspicions about his motives. Tony honestly doesn't get what's the big deal. As planes go, this hired private jet isn't really anything to write home to Asgard about in Tony's opinion. "We've got a lot better than this, you know." Loki twists to see him directly, eyes crinkling at the edges with humor. "What?" "A god tells you he is impressed by the innovative spirit of your mortal race, and all you can do is protest that 'it's nothing.' You are either the most arrogant or the most idealistic individual I have met in years." "It's not arrogance if you can back it up," Tony insists, although privately he suspects Loki has a point. But he's firmly back in going with the flow mode now, because what will any of this matter in a month? Also, it's worth going with the flow when the flow is guided by a Norse god with an affinity for picking up on earth technology and finding new and exciting uses for Tony's credit cards. "Marvelous invention," he catches Loki murmuring more than once while spending Tony's plastic money. He's ready to half expect a chorus line of dancers greeting them in their suite once they get to Amsterdam, but he's willing to let go of the fantasy because Loki managed to nail Tony's birthday request right on the head. "Are those strawberries?" Tony catches a glimpse of red on the bedside table. "Wild strawberries," Loki confirms. "Far sweeter than those absurd monstrosities that passed for fruit in Monaco." Tony feels like he should be defending the most expensive hot house strawberries money can buy, but what's this whole adventure for if not trying new things. "Eh. What the hell," he says and falls backwards onto the bed. There's champagne chilling in a bucket on the other bedside table and Tony arches his eyebrows at Loki, who's merely opening windows and curtains to let the fresh smell of Amsterdam in May fill their suite. Loki casts a teasing glance over his shoulder. "Well, you did make a rather specific request." "The strawberries were a joke," Tony admits. The strawberries, the champagne, the gondola, it all sounded embarrassingly like something a complete yutz like Hammer would go for and had made him want to take it back as soon as he said it. The expression on Loki's face is not what Tony would call surprised. "Pity. I so looked forward to a romantic evening." This time, there's no mistaking his mocking tone or the deliberately coquettish flutter of his eyelashes. "You're a jackass." Tony throws a strawberry at him. Loki only snatches it out of the air and eats it, a smug look on his face. "Mocking a dying man on his birthday." "I mocked you yesterday and the day before," Loki points out. "And you mocked me just this morning." "I did not." "The picture of my hair upon waking that you have stored inside your phone begs to differ." "Okay. So maybe a little mocking." Tony let's his head fall back into the pillows. "Still. Birthday. Even supervillains have rules against that kind of stuff, I'll bet." There's a look that passes over Loki's face just too fast for Tony to identify it. "Any supervillain worth his title would plan to attack on your birthday, I'm sure. For the sheer surprise and added misery, if nothing else." "But what if I'm expecting the villain to screw up my birthday party?" Tony sits up. Loki seats himself in a cream colored chair and steeples his fingers. "If you are expecting him to ruin your birthday, then you would also expect that he is expecting your expectation. Thus, while you are half looking for his typical approach, he would be able to creep his way into your birthday with stealth and set plans in motion to destroy the day through a thousand little cuts and slights, none of which you would ever suspect had been manufactured for that express purpose. Late guests. Delayed flights. Mistakes by the caterers. Unfortunate rumors..." Tony realizes his mouth is open. "You've put thought into this," he says at last. Weakly. "Only just now." Loki unsteeples his fingers and leans forward, elbows on knees. "But I enjoy a mental challenge." "Sure you do. Is that what happened back home?" Tony leans over to help himself to the fruit. "Ruined the king's birthday party?" He wonders if Loki is even going to answer that one. He's not expecting him to, but Loki's all about the unexpected. "My brother's coronation," he admits. "Actually. And I had a very good reason for it." Tony whistles. "A whole coronation? How'd you get caught?" "I did not," Loki snaps. He then looks away. "At first. Not for that. It was only later that the All Father put it all together and realized who was to blame. It would not even have happened had our relationship not become recently strained." Strained father-son relationships is a topic Tony feels on firmer ground with. "You lashed out or something?" Loki gives a weak chuckle. "You might say that." He rubs his open palms over the thighs of his jeans. "I tried to impress him." His tone and facial expression say clearly that it didn't work. "I... Let myself be swept up in passion and betrayal." Tony grimaces. "Acting out can backfire, yeah." Loki seems to find this very funny. "On this, you and I agree." He shakes his head. "Everything backfired spectacularly on me, and now I am here." He rubs one palm with the other thumb. He has the look of a man questioning his life choices. "Saved in the midst of my imprisonment only to be banished." This whole conversation is getting dangerously close to moody territory, and Tony just does not do moody these days. He categorically does not do moody on his very last birthday ever. Life's too short. Ha. He kills himself. "Might as well enjoy your banishment." Tony pours Loki a glass of champagne and passes it over. "Think of it as an extended vacation. A chance to find yourself." "Who, save Thor, would visit Midgard for fun?" "Oh, I dunno. You seem to be enjoying yourself." Tony taps his glass against Loki's and takes a long drink. "I'll make you see the joys of Midgard or die trying." He grins shamelessly, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction from Loki's unimpressed look. "Very funny." "I thought so." They don't try the making out thing again, mostly because Tony's just not ready to go back there yet. That, and a palladium core replacement emergency sort of kills the mood. He's not thinking of the expression on Loki's face when he saw the depleted core or the hole in his chest, because trying to second guess things like that just depresses him. "Why do you not find a different substance with which to power your device?" Loki asks as they wander alongside the canal. "There aren't any." It hurts less to say so now that Tony knows it's the truth for sure. "I've tried every other substance known to man." "Well," Loki says. "There's your problem." There's an ache in Tony's chest that has nothing to do with the palladium. "If it's off world, just... Do me a favor and don't tell me about it," he lifts his gaze to meet Loki's only to let it wander into the middle distance over Loki's shoulder. "Okay?" He's aware of Loki giving him another of those assessing looks, but he's been strangely at peace since accepting his death. He doesn't think he could handle going back to the frantic search for a cure at this point. He's okay. He's good. He did his thing and led the world a better place. So he's grateful when Loki nods, but says nothing else but, "I'm so sorry, Tony." And if Tony gets the feeling Loki's talking about something other than having mentioned a possible cure, he's not going to dwell on it. It's been a strangely quiet and confessional birthday by the time they make it back to the hotel room, and Tony surprises himself by taking off his own shirt once they're safely in the suite, dropping it to the floor. Loki presses his hands to Tony's chest on either side of the arc reactor. They simply stay there for a time until Tony opens his eyes again. He hasn't even realized he'd closed them. "Huh," he says. There's a worried twist to Loki's eyebrows which swiftly disappears to be replaced with a look of curiosity as his fingers creep on top of the arc reactor. He knows Loki's feeling it's hum and wonders if he can feel his heartbeat through it, too. "You should not trust me as you do," Loki eventually says, fingers skimming over the rim of the arc reactor. "Meh." Tony covers Loki's hands with his. "Don't sell yourself short. You've resisted the urge to kill me this long, and I have it on pretty good authority that's not easy." "Do not joke," Loki says, a tightness in his voice. "Please." His fingers move off the arc reactor and smooth their way to his collarbone. A sudden bright smile lights his face without quite reaching his eyes. "It's your birthday." "Okay," Tony agrees. "No jokes. I can't promise I'll stick to that 100% but I give you my word I'll try." "Thank you." Loki follows his fingers with his lips, and Tony just leans back against the sofa arm to enjoy it, sliding his fingers into Loki's hair. It's all those things he's usually too impatient - or too apathetic - to take the time for. And too distrusting to let anyone else take the time for with him. He's the first to admit it sucks that it takes imminent death to get him here, but he's glad he got here, where he can let Loki map him out with lips, tongue, and hands, one way or another. He hisses in a breath when Loki slides a hand inside his jeans, squeezing him skin-to-skin, and he pushes into the contact, resolving to just enjoy. "You know what's novel?" Tony asks when he feels his knees start to give way. "Beds. Beds are novel." Breathing is harder than it should be, and Loki's hands are all that's keeping him upright. It's taking more out of him than he expected, but like he ever let that stop him. He looks into Loki's face to find hazy green eyes and flushed lips. "I would have you on the bed," Loki agrees, and something about the way he says "have you" runs a jolt through Tony that gives him plenty of energy to get himself over to the bed and shuck his pants and shoes. He doesn't even have time for another quip before Loki is over him, claiming his lips with a fierceness he hasn't approached before. "W-wait," Tony stutters out with effort, one hand on Loki's chest and the other gripping the bedcovers tight. "By the nine, Stark... If you've just blown cold..." Loki's arms have a vague tremble where they bracket Tony's shoulders. "No! No cold. No way. Hot blooded American guy here." Tony swallows and leans his head back to look Loki in the eye. "Just, um, slightly compromised in the blood flow department, okay?" Loki's eyes flicker down to the network of black lines tracking over Tony's skin. "I doubt I could catch any human poisoning or illness," Loki says, head tilted to one side. "But you must know this already. So... Something else?" "Oh, god, I have to say this out loud, don't I?" Tony runs a hand over his face. "Capillary action is a little," he waves the hand in the air, "not where I would like it to be these days. It's an issue." Loki's eyebrows arch upwards. "I believe I offered to have you on this bed." And, yep, those words are still working for Tony. "I require nothing more of you than the ability to feel pleasure." His fingers skim up Tony's side and brush over his neck, making him shiver. "Um, yep. Got that covered," he manages, clearing his throat and dragging in a big lungful of air. "Then feel, Tony." Loki follows his fingers with his lips, finding the sensitive spot behind Tony's ear. "It's your birthday, remember." Tony wants to make some kind of witty quip or deprecating remark, but Loki's not fooling around with extensive foreplay, slithering straight down Tony's body to take him in his mouth. A part of him knows he should feel self conscious with Loki's tongue toying with flesh too soft to do anything with. But then Loki pulls back, closes his lips around Tony and slowly sucks him back into his mouth and Tony knows that moan came from him. Loki makes an inquiring noise, and in answer, Tony just reaches up and grabs the headboard, arching against Loki's mouth. The wicked chuckle that follows nearly undoes him, and you know what? Tony is absolutely, positively, categorically fine with that. He is more than fine letting Loki bend him into new and interesting shapes. Totally fine. He is absolutely, "Oh, fuck, perfect!" As final birthdays go, this one ranks at least in the top ten. And as the day after the final birthday goes, at least the beginning of it, Tony's prepared to give it a solid 9.8. Points off for dying, and all. But he actually feels pretty good about it so far. "Hey," he says to the god stroking his throat with lazy fingertips. "Hmm?" "While we're going with the flow, how do you feel about speedboats?" Loki's smile turns from lazy morning to positively unholy. "I've seen your speedboats. I require only the most swift." Tony flops back with a happy sigh. "I'm keeping you." When Loki doesn't reply, Tony lifts his head. "Not, y'know, for long, obviously. But humor me until then." He doesn't analyze or dissect the expressions flitting over Loki's face. "Do you think yourself capable of keeping a god?" "Dunno." Tony grins. "I've never tried before now. But I'm Tony Stark. I've got this." Loki snorts. "Very well, you may try." "One speedboat coming up." Tony glances at Loki and does a little mental math. "Two speedboats," he corrects himself. "We can race." "I would not advise racing a god who once almost outran death herself." "I'm Iron Man." Tony waves that one off. "I outrun death all the time." He doesn't dwell on the likelihood that Loki was speaking literally, not metaphorically. And he appreciates the way Loki's not pointing out that death is gaining on him rapidly. "Okay." He rubs his hands together. "Pants. Then boats." And being Amsterdam, they take a boat to the boats, because that's a thing that's done. There's two sleek speedboats waiting for them at the marina. There's also two sleek individuals all in black who leave Tony's spidey-senses tingling. Or something. "Natalie," Tony says, looking her up and down. "Gotta say I love the aesthetic. Very matrix dominatrix, but not exactly In the Stark Industries professional appearance guidelines." He turns and looks at Loki. "I should change that. What do you think?" He never finds out what Loki thinks because Nick Fury isn't a guy who stands on ceremony anymore, evidently. "I've gotta say, that doesn't look good." Tony jerks away and straightens his shirt with a sharp tug. "Are you really expecting me to believe you have nothing on this yet? Because if that's the case, SHIELD isn't half as big or bad as the monster.com profile led me to believe, and I am bitterly disappointed. "Monster.com," Fury echoes. "What is this, 1999?" He tosses something at Tony that's snatched out of the air before he can lift a hand.   Loki turns the small metal device in his hands. "I wasn't aware earth had this particular micro injection technology." "Earth doesn't." Fury nods at the device then toward Tony. "One shot to the carotid ought to clear up that little skin problem you've got going on." "Great. Sign me up for a case, and I'll be right as rain," Tony says, waiting for the catch. He doesn't have to wait long. "It's not a cure. Think of it as a very very high tech and specialized epi pen." "Huh. Well, nice meeting you." Tony pushes past Mr. One-Eyed Leather Coat Wearing SHIELD Guy. "Look me up once you've got a cure. Better yet, just send Nat. Or look me up on Linked-In so I can have Pepper turn you down." "Actually," Fury says, in a tone of voice that encourages Tony to pause on his way down the dock. "Waiting," Tony says, but doesn't turn around. "There's a fix. But here's the thing." There's a thump and Tony looks down to find a heavy wheeled case at his feet. "You're the only guy who can turn it into reality." "I've already tried reality." Tony waves it all off and climbs into the boat. "The reality is that a replacement for the palladium is pure fantasy. So, guys, Tony Stark has embraced the fantasy." The boat roars to life and Tony flashes a V at everyone standing on the dock, gunning the engine and shooting out into the marina. He has full faith that Loki knows how to join him when he's ready. He doesn't have faith in much, but he's got that. Huh. When the chips are down, a god's got Tony's back. Of course, Tony hasn't known any gods who give blow jobs before now. So he can probably be excused his last minute faith. It's well rewarded, anyway. He hears the second boat closing in on him and Loki's laughter over the engines' roar. "Catch your God if you can, Stark!" He peels away then, spraying Tony liberally with water and all but capsizing them both before speeding away. "You lunatic bastard!" Tony screams it into the wind and gives chase. Because if someone asked Tony to create his own personal perfect God, he's got to admit Loki's pretty damn close. Fantasy? Is AWESOME.

  Robert was not sleeping well in an empty bed and it had only been one night. Which meant he was already up and on his second cup of coffee when the shouting started from the kitchen of the pub. He recognised Vic’s voice, but could only hear mumbling from the other one. Was this Adam? Were they having a domestic that Robert really didn’t want to get in the way of? If they were having a marital argument… But he couldn’t leave Vic alone without at least checking she was okay. So he poked his head around the kitchen door. He saw just about the last person he wanted to see. Finn. Who, during normal opening hours of the pub was barred. He hadn’t even tried, because with Chas and Charity behind the bar, Cain and Adam being around most nights too, he wasn’t the most popular person in the village right now. “I didn’t make him punch Kasim,” Finn said. “No, but you were the one who pushed him over and over again to report it, to try and get Aaron arrested! You’re just like your vindictive mother, I thought you were better than that!” “Kasim went ahead with it on his own,” Finn said. Though it wasn’t entirely true and everyone in the village knew it. Finn just didn’t like being the outcast for a change. “Oh, come off it,” Vic said with a scowl. “If everyone who punched someone got sent to prison, there’d be no one left in this village!” “I was protecting him,” Finn said, voice low. “How did that work out for you?” Vic snapped. “Still didn’t get back with you, did he? Because you’re obsessive and you never see when to let things go! I thought you were my friend!” “I am your friend,” Finn said. “Come on, Vic, I didn’t do anything to you.” “My friend is in prison, my brother is meant to be getting married to him in a few weeks time! Rob’s devastated. You’ve made everyone miserable, just so you could get on Kasim’s good side, and guess what, even that didn’t work!” “I think you should leave,” Robert said, coming into the kitchen and standing between Vic and Finn. “You’re not helping and you’re upsetting her.” “Robert, I…” “Get out,” Robert said darkly. “You are not welcome here, find someone else who’ll put up with you.” “I have as much right to…” Finn tailed off at the look on Robert’s face. “Vic, leave,” Robert said. She didn’t even argue. “Robert, Aaron shouldn’t have…” Finn started. “A few months ago, your brother broke Victoria’s rib when he was having a punching match with Adam. You notice how the police weren’t called then?” Robert started delicately, well aware that his tone was threatening, even if the words weren’t. Finn blanched but didn’t say anything. “I’m meant to be getting married in three weeks time. And the man who’s going to be my husband is in prison because he hit someone you have an obsession over.” “I’m not obsessed,” Finn said. “I’m in love.” Robert scoffed, he couldn’t help it. “Difference is, Kasim doesn’t want anything to do with you. And thanks to you, neither does half the village. I won’t forget this and one day, you will be repaid for this. Trust me, I don’t make idle threats.” Finn had gone pale and Robert walked away from him. If he stayed in the room, he’d do something that would probably mean he’d be joining Aaron in prison.   “That’s private.” “Sorry,” Aaron said. He hadn’t meant to be staring, but the picture Simon had on the wall had attracted his attention. The five girls in the photo had to be his sisters, they looked too similar to him to be anyone else. “You’ve got five sisters?” Aaron asked before realising he probably shouldn’t be asking. “No, seven,” he said easily, lying down on his bed. “The youngest two aren’t in that.” “Wow. I bet that’s… loud,” Aaron said. “Yeah, you could say that,” Simon said. “I only came to prison to get some peace.” “I’ve got one sister, that’s loud enough.” “How old is she?” Simon asked. “Sixteen," Aaron said. “Interested in boys yet?” Simon asked. Aaron shook his head. “Enjoy that while it lasts. My sisters love lives are why I’m in this mess in the first place.” Aaron didn’t ask, even though he could probably do with the distraction. This morning had been the first in quite some time that he hadn’t woken up next to Robert. And it had been the first in over a year that he hadn’t been able to pick up the phone and call him, even when they weren’t physically together. He pictured Robert’s sleepy smile, the way his eyes would flicker open, then focus on Aaron at the start of a new day. If it was a weekend, or a day that neither of them had to be anywhere, their hands would start searching for naked skin. Aaron never considered himself a particularly physically affectionate person, but he craved Robert’s touch, his talented large hands, effortlessly finding those spots on his body that made him sigh with pleasure. “What’re you in here for then?” The words drew Aaron from his quiet reverie of thought. “Doesn’t matter,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “Probably the least of my sins.”   “Hi.” Robert, Liv and Chas turned to see Rebecca poking her head around the doorway of the backroom, looking nervous. “What’re you doing here?” Robert asked. “I um… heard,” Rebecca said. “About Aaron, I’m really sorry.” “Yeah, right,” Liv scoffed, picking up her schoolbag. “What, no argument?” Robert threw back at her. “Rather be somewhere that doesn’t feel like a wake,” Liv said, she pushed past Rebecca, making sure to shove her on the way out. “I can leave,” Rebecca said. “I wondered if you wanted a distraction, or to talk business? We’ve got the Johnson deal to…” “Yeah,” Robert said briefly. “A distraction would be good. Anything to make it until visiting.” “Which is…?” Rebecca asked. “Wednesday.” “Yeah, listen, about that…” They both turned to Chas who cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Remember “don’t shoot the messenger” okay?” Chas started. “Aaron doesn’t want to see you in prison.” There was an incredibly heavy pause. “No, I can’t have heard you correctly,” Robert said lowly. “Aaron said it would only make it harder, to see you and not be able to come home,” Chas said. “Don’t make it into something it isn’t, of course he’ll miss you.” “You’re telling me, that I have to make it three months without so much as seeing him?” Robert said. “You are out of your mind! So’s he! What the hell is wrong with him?!” “Robert, calm down,” Rebecca said to absolutely no effect. “Change his mind,” Robert said to Chas firmly. “When you visit him, you change his mind, I need to see him.” “When have you known Aaron to change his mind about anything?” Chas asked. “He’s so bloody stubborn, once his mind’s made up, that’s it.” “Chas, please,” Robert said. “I won’t make it until his release date, I need to see him, to make sure he’s okay. Being cut off from him will drive me round the twist.” “I’ll do my best,” she said, in a tone that said she privately doubted it would do any good. Robert turned to Rebecca. “Want a drink?” “It’s not even nine,” she said. “And we really have to be on it for the meeting with…” “Fine,” Robert said bitterly, grabbing his jacket to leave the room. “And if he calls, tell Aaron he’s an idiot.” “Will do,” Chas said easily, because Robert was right. He was being an idiot.

xxxxx It was like sinking into that old nightmare again; only this time Harry was not staring at Dumbledore's broken body and neither at Sirius, falling through the veil. It was his enemy who was lying there, motionless and seemingly dead. The sheer impossibility of the sight aside, Harry realized that this was supposed to be the moment he had been waiting for. This was, after all, everything he yearned for ever since he learned who brought about the death of his parents. Harry had sworn to destroy Lord Voldemort more than once; he had spent countless hours dreaming about how it would feel if he ever managed to achieve such a feat. But that was before Harry learned the previously unseen and unknown side of Lord Voldemort and stupidly, recklessly fell in love with him. There was no joy or happiness in his outcry. Instead, he felt as if someone just ripped out his insides and ate it for a dinner, leaving him bleeding to death. And all of that for a man who deserved nobody's compassion. Harry could not care less about the honourable path he was deserting, he did not mind that he was sinking lower and lower, dragging everyone else along. He just needed to see him; he needed to be sure that the man on the altar was really him... Plagued by his thoughts, he reached out for the bronze handle, but somebody slapped his hand away before he could touch it. "What do you think you're doing, Potter?" Snape said mockingly. "What's your problem?" Harry yelped in return, stabbing the man with a glare. "I'm going inside!" "Ah, don't be so pathetic, Potter! Shall I remind you that the handle's been cursed? Touch it and you die." "As if you care!" Harry snarled, although he felt somewhat mortified. It embarrassed him how easily he fell into that obvious trap. "You're quite right, Potter. I wonder why do I still bother," Snape replied in a bored tone. Cursing under his breath, Harry heaved himself onto his feet and retreated to the opposite wall. "Step aside, Snape," he said with a hardened expression and raised the wand. "Or what?" "Just. Step. Aside." "Potter, if you expect me to let you cause any disturb-" Harry flicked his wand, sending the man flying backwards. He could deal with him later. "Expulso!" he cried out then and the door exploded, sending splinters in everywhere. "POTTER, YOU RECKLESS IDIOT!" Harry did not wait and listen for further insults that Snape was hurling after him. Instead, he squeezed himself through the broken door and hurried over to the Dark Lord's side. Until that moment he tried to pacify himself with a thought that it could be a mere hoax, but his hopes diminished quickly at the sight that was presented to him. Being this close to him, there was no mistaking: the man who was lying on that horrible altar was without a doubt Lord Voldemort. Harry could even see the tiny scabs on his left cheek, a healed reminder of their cumbersome escape from his relatives' house. Harry's wand slipped from his slacked fingers and clattered on the stone floor, but Harry paid it no heed. Instead, he took Voldemort's face into his palm and rubbed his skin gently with his thumb. The white, smooth complexion felt drier and colder than Harry remembered, but it was still pliant and supple. Harry was no doctor, but he was fairly convinced that Voldemort was still alive, regardless the man's total lack of response to his presence. "Tom," he leaned to him, whispering. "You're not dead. I know you're not. You must wake up." Harry turned his head to the side, placing his ear close to Voldemort's mouth. "Spare your breath, Potter. He cannot hear you." Snape entered the room and strolled over to Harry, reminding him of a narky bat that was just disturbed from his winter dormancy. Harry straightened his spine defensively. "And what makes you say that?" Snape made a face that was worth a thousand words. "He's not dead," Harry said in return, pointing at Voldemort's chest as if it held all the evidence. "He's breathing! I think." Snape's black eyes left Harry's face and located the unmoving dark wizard on the altar. "Breathing, you say...," he repeated to himself, possibly searching for that imperceptible movement, before stabbing Harry with his powerful glare again. "That makes him much luckier than us in a couple of moments." "I know I overdid it, Snape," Harry said calmly. "And I am aware of the danger we're facing at a moment. But try to understand me – I need to know what's going on here first!" "Well," Snape drawled out before coming closer and carefully raising one of the Dark Lord's closed eyelids. "If you need to know it so badly, Potter, I think it's safe to assume that he is in a vegetative state." He pointed a shining tip of his wand at the dull, dilated pupil. "See? No response." "And what's wrong with that vegetative state?" Harry insisted. Snape gave him a wry smile. "It's a state of a body without the presence of a mind. There are basically only two ways how a wizard can reach it magically, Potter," he said and his eyes returned to the Dark Lord. "The first one is when he's possessing someone else. The second one is when he receives the Dementor's Kiss. And now, if you excuse me, I am leaving to celebrate this. You're free to stay here and face the wrath of the Death Eaters all by yourself again." "Wait!" Harry yelped angrily after the retreating man. "You're saying that he's not possessing someone else at the moment?" "He's the Dark Lord, Potter!" Snape grimaced over his shoulder. "He would be awake long before you even approached that door, if he could. You shall know that possessing the others is not without tremendous risks. It leaves your body completely helpless. If someone kills it while you're inside someone else, your death is inevitable. That's why the Dark Lord always used the most complex spells to protect himself. The fact that none of them is working right now is the only evidence I need." "So, you believe that he's been subjected to the Dementor's Kiss! And you think that even though you know that those dreadful monsters are completely under his control!" Harry protested heatedly, refusing to give up just like that. "He doesn't have a wand," Snape replied in a bored tone, cutting his eyes at Voldemort's empty hands. "I seriously did not expect his last fight to be so uneventful. What an embarrassing demise for such an almighty dark wizard. I must say I'm only sorry that I could not be here and watch it." Harry held Snape's gaze for a moment, realizing that they were never meant to really understand each other. The man had an incredible talent in wishing the worst fate to the people Harry came to love dearly. And he had no mercy for his enemies. "I used to think the same," Harry said simply. "But that was before I learned that cruelty can never save the world." Snape only shook his head with disappointment. "Your kindness and chivalry will be your downfall, Potter. Mind my words." And with an acid smirk still on his lips, he turned to leave, but his body was suddenly surrounded by a vicious green halo. Harry did not even have time to be shocked; the pain in his scar sharply peaked to the point where he could only scream until his sore lungs hurt. Sinking to his knees, Harry clutched at the burning old mark on his forehead, gasping for breath. A sour taste of vomit tingled at the back of his throat, making him sick. It was the sound of a body hitting the floor that brought his thoughts back into focus. The curse had found its victim. "Snape!" Harry cried out at last, but as he feared, no one answered him. His insides turned over again. According to his scar, it had to be Voldemort's work. Perhaps the man only pretended to be defeated; it could be his plan from the beginning to find the traitor in his troops and Harry just played into his cards... Releasing the clutch on his forehead, he expected to see the Dark Lord raising from the altar, sneering at Snape's dead body... Yet, Harry saw no such a thing when he looked up. Voldemort was still there on that altar, showing no signs of being conscious let alone striking someone dead, despite the constant pulsing of Harry's scar. There was someone else entering the room, though. The cloaked figure was stepping over Snape's body, raising the wand again... Harry's instincts took over. He jumped forward, his hand almost reaching the wand that he dropped a few moments ago. "Incendio." Harry howled in pain and jerked his hand away, watching the wand burn to ashes quickly. He could not believe it was over before he even engaged in a fight. His opponent clearly refused to play the game according to the rules. There would be no proper duel. No fair chances on both sides. Not wanting to die on his knees, Harry got up clumsily, holding his scorched hand. "Who are you?" he gasped out, blinking tears out of his eyes. He only caught a glimpse of a pale skin under the hood. The wand was still pointed at his chest. "Avada..." It was the moment when Harry finally recognized the familiar voice. He struggled to keep himself upright. No, it could not be possible - but... "Bellatrix?!" he yelped and the person paused, considering something for a moment. Then she slowly lowered the wand and stepped closer to him. Bewildered, Harry watched the woman remove the hood from her head. "Surprised, Potter?" she asked softly. "But I saw you die!" Harry gasped out in disbelief. "No," she smiled sweetly. "What you saw, Potter, was my glorious rebirth. And I shall feel obliged to you for that forever." "Rebirth?" Harry choked out, backing from her instinctively. "Ah, I see that I have to explain that... I hate to repeat the old man's bad habits when it comes to his victory speeches. However," she paused dramatically before pointing at Harry, "where would be the fun in that if you died without knowing the truth? It's quite a story after all, starting about some fifty years ago." "Are you talking about the day when you were born?" Harry said pointedly, feeling the back of his legs meet the altar behind him. Bellatrix tilted her head a little; a gesture so familiar that Harry froze between breaths. "You mean Bellatrix?" she said softly, her long black hair falling over her shoulder. "Honestly, who cares about that woman? No, I'm talking about the day when I was put into a prison. A prison so horrible that twenty years in Azkaban would feel like a blessing in comparison." Harry looked quickly at Voldemort, who lay motionless behind him and then back at Bellatrix. And then he did it again. "You're catching up fast, Potter, but you're not quite right," Bellatrix said smoothly. "Wait - you cannot be Voldemort. He was never in prison," Harry said resolutely. Since he did not know what was going on yet, he needed to stick with facts. "Wrong, Potter!" Bellatrix gritted her yellow, uneven teeth at him and her black eyes flashed red. "You're wrong! I was imprisoned with absolutely no chance of escape. And the only thing that kept me sane for that insufferably long time were my thoughts of revenge! Ah, Potter, if I had any idea about the price I had to pay for my achievements, I would have never even considered them!" Harry tried to gulp down the dry sand that began to form inside his throat. Slowly, the pieces began to fit together and the resulting image was beyond horrendous. "You're a Horcrux," he whispered at last. "You were locked inside Helga's cup, weren't you?" "Touché," Bellatrix smirked victoriously. "It took the old man twice as long to figure it out. I absolutely loved seeing his face when the realization dawned upon him. Revenge can be so sweet sometimes, don't you agree, Potter? It can bring forth the most delicious pleasure." Harry's sweaty, unhurt hand grasped the altar for support. "What did you do to him?!" he said, his breathless voice wavering with barely concealed fear. "Tell me, Harry, why are you so upset? You should be happy to see the old man like this," she smiled slyly in return. "Or maybe not. I have claimed most of his recent memories and I must say that those concerning you are really … something." "What did you do to him?" Harry repeated in a lower voice, clenching his healthy hand furiously. "Nothing too bad - at least in his opinion - since he thought it was okay to leave me like that for fifty years," Bellatrix replied venomously. "He's just trying out how it feels to walk in my shoes for a while. I understand that it's hard to imagine being deposited on a dark shelf in a locked vault forever. It's not just the boredom; all you can do is to relive your existence over and over while counting the bits of dust falling upon you – one after another. You can count them up to a million and then start counting again - ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times and still nothing, no change, no life to live... You'd be praying even for a little suffering at that point!" She rolled the wand in her fingers, allowing Harry to recognize it. "I almost gave up at one point, but then you appeared, Potter, and inadvertently saved me." "I did not-" "Oh, yes, you did. Or, more specifically, your friends did when they successfully escaped from Gringotts," Bellatrix continued softly, "At first they tried to destroy me. I felt really threatened at that point, but luckily they changed their mind and decided to place a curse upon the container I was locked in. This curse was meant to kill the old man the moment he touched it, but as you well know the first person who came in contact with it was Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry held his breath and the sudden silence spiraled horribly. "Once she touched it," Bellatrix continued silkily as if she did not notice the growing uneasiness, "I was instantly pulled into her body and I was confused and shocked at first. I did not know who was that woman, I saw her only once before when she put me in her vault. You see, I completely lacked any appropriate resources. Fortunately, Bellatrix's mind was a veritable mine of information. I instantly learned that she was obsessed with the old man and that she was quite a powerful witch. I allowed her a part of the control over her body and she quickly proved to be a trustworthy follower. I let her know who I am and she was incredibly pleased to do anything I wished. I soon found out that she was tailing after the old man for years, she knew his habits, his preferences... She was even watching you from the shadows, Potter, when you were a captive at Malfoy Manor. She knew that the old man was becoming obsessed with you and I used the wrath she felt for my purposes. Oh, how lucky I was all of a sudden! By possessing her, by feeding off her emotions, I was becoming stronger with each day. I only needed to find out what happened to me and set my plans in motion - and I knew who I had to question first." "Bill," Harry breathed out, feeling completely exhausted at that point. Here he stood before the murderer of Bill Weasley, of Severus Snape and how many others and he was completely helpless to stop him... "Precisely. Bill Weasley was my primary target. I captured him soon enough and interrogated him. I must admit, I was kind of disappointed by how trivial the curse proved to be in the end. Following a simple magical gradient, it sucked the magic from the place abundant with it into a presumably empty container, killing the magician in the process." "But you weren't an empty container," Harry whispered against his will. "You had more magical power than Bellatrix could ever dream about." "I see why Dumbledore picked you as his favourite, Potter. You're not half as dull as you seem to be. Anyway, that's basically how it was. The curse flitted out of the cup, turning Bellatrix into the container. And I was pulled inside her, becoming stronger and stronger by receiving her magic and magic of all the other Horcruxes that were connected to me through the old man. It was like a dream becoming true. All of a sudden I had a cooperative body, a wand, my powers, necessary knowledge and a handful of unsuspecting followers that I could easily control and manipulate, especially thanks to certain Harry Potter who kept the old man properly distracted from the real issues." "He suspected you," Harry said resolutely. "He suspected what was going on, but he was hoping to be mistaken. He was intent on believing that he would never mean to harm himself." "And he told you all of that, Potter?" she said poignantly, her eyes flashing with that red gleam again. "He gave me some clues," Harry snapped, rubbing his itchy scar. "When we were in the Mirror Chamber he told me that what had happened to his Horcruxes was a fate worse than death. I did not know what to think about it until now." "Yes, he was quite right about that. By refusing to sacrifice you that day he spoiled my plans a bit. Everything would have happened so much faster. Hah, he thought that I meant no harm to him … what a fool! If he knew how much I suffered for him, while he lived his luxurious immortal life, he would be running away from me or gathering powerful troops to fight me back till his last breath...," Bellatrix said with the same cold indifference Harry remembered hearing in Voldemort's voice. "Anyway, he did not care about it and that made him rather clueless about me. So I used my first chance to steal the Elder Wand from him during the battle over Privet Drive and I nearly captured him back then as well, but you managed to snatch him from my grasp again in the very last second. Not for long, though. The night you ditched him, he searched me out, but it was too late for him to stop what I started. I had taken over all the key positions. He fought me valiantly, but he lost and I won. And now the world will be mine." "Never! We will stop you! Even if you kill me now, the Order-" "Ah, no one bothered to tell you yet?" Bellatrix interrupted him sweetly. "Do you want to know, Potter, where your precious Order is?" "If you hurt any one of them-!" Harry whispered, failing to hide his terror. "Oh no, they're all here, in the Ministry dungeons. I caught them one after another as they were attempting those silly rescue missions. First Bill Weasley, then you, and later on it did not really matter since I had quite a number of them already. They're awaiting tonight's execution – but don't worry, Potter. Since you've helped me so much, you'll be given a chance to tell them your good-byes before you all die." It was the moment when Harry lunged at her, aiming at her throat. And the next second he fell to the ground, his arms and legs tied together with thick ropes that were cutting hard into his skin. The last loop was wrapping itself around Harry's throat, slowly throttling him. "No, Potter," she whispered and lifted Harry's head a little so he could see her face. "There will be no more fighting. I told you that I won. You will be dead soon. It's a little pity though ... because now I can see why the old man fancied you so much. You've got some spirit. You even did not fear to show him his own face filled with lively emotions. And he became so envious of it - of you and your feelings. You made him give into that weakness and that's how you destroyed him as you always wished. One would find it hard to believe what power is hidden in your sweet kisses, Potter." "You're lying...," Harry gasped out against the tightening rope. "He was … only using me. He told me so." Bellatrix seemed to be very pleased with herself after hearing Harry's strained words. "Oh no, Harry. He merely put you to the test and you failed him completely." Harry struggled for another breath. "I - don't - believ-" "You see, the old man never messed with your mind, Potter," Bellatrix jeered at him. "Not once since the incident at the Ministry a couple of years ago. He only told you that he did because he wanted to see what your reaction would be. He was becoming quite attached to you, but you cured him right away by proving him how little you thought of your own feelings for him. You showed him that you believed them to be false right away." "Shut - up!" Darkness began enveloping Harry's mind, regardless of how much he fought it. "He really liked you. You heard me, Potter. The old man was developing a very soft spot for you. It was so unhealthy that I had to do a little pruning of these rotten parts," Bellatrix said in a soft voice, gesturing towards Voldemort. "Do you understand now, how fragile love makes you, Harry? Look at the old man; he is my Horcrux now. The tables have turned. And now, he will be lying here forever, a prisoner of his own mind, while I will rule the world. And all of that because of you, my dear Harry. And now...," she leaned to him, her lips mere inches from his, but Harry could hardly see it any longer. "We shall see each other again at 7 p.m. this evening. Remember the time, Harry. It will be the hour when I will proclaim my new rebirth in front of my Death Eaters. It will be the time of celebrations. And it will be the time of your death."

taehyung is having a good day.    by some miracle his only lecture for today got cancelled in the morning and he had the pleasure of going right back to sleep.    his second win of the day happened when he woke up again a little later and realised jimin had already left for uni.    having the apartment to himself always felt nice, even if only for a little while.    he spends the day lazing around, catching up on the weird australian dating show he’s been watching, and he even finishes three commissions.   by the time evening rolls by, taehyung is happy and relaxed, scrolling through his phone wrapped up in a cozy blanket, while waiting for his tea to cool down.    there’s quiet jazz playing in the background, and taehyung gets so lost in his phone, he doesn’t hear jimin come home.    he only notices him when he walks past the sofa, muttering a quiet hey.    he doesn’t wait for taehyung to greet him back though, walking straight into his room.    usually taehyung would be annoyed by his attitude. maybe he’d even call him out for it but something about the way jimin looked tells him he’s not in the mood for one of their petty fights so taehyung makes the smart decision to keep his mouth shut.    fifteen minutes later jimin comes out of his room.   taehyung watches him make the short walk from his room to the kitchen in silence. and then he listens to him slamming the cabinet doors with what taehyung assumes is a little more force than needed.     when jimin steps out of the kitchen his eyebrows are creased and his lips are jutted out into a pout.   it doesn’t take much for taehyung to come to the conclusion that jimin is upset.    what surprises him is how jimin stomps his way into the living room and plops himself down on the other sofa, a bowl full of what taehyung assumes are the leftovers from his dinner in his hands, instead of going back into his room.   “i took your leftovers,” jimin says, confirming taehyung’s suspicion.    “that’s okay,” taehyung says slowly, unsure if he should say anything more.    jimin nods his head once, and then dives into the food angrily.    in their short time living together taehyung has seen jimin upset all together two times. both of which he locked himself in his room, and didn’t come out until he was feeling better.    so this is new.    and taehyung has no idea what he’s supposed to do.    he feels obligated to at least ask if something’s wrong, even if the possibility of him getting an actual answer is close to zero.    “so,” taehyung starts awkwardly. “how was your day?”   jimin snorts with a mouth full of food, and taehyung suppresses the urge to gag at the sight.    “it sucked,” he says once he swallows the food.   he seems to think about it for a second, before he continues.    “actually it was fine,” he corrects himself. “and then i found out my flight got cancelled. and then it wasn’t fine anymore.”    ah , taehyung gets it now.    jimin has been planning his trip back home for the past month, and he’s been excited about it for even longer. taehyung knows this because he’s been mentioning it to their friends every chance he got.    if there is one thing taehyung knows about jimin, it’s that he loves his family.    his flight was set for tomorrow, so he could make it back home in time for new years.   but it’s been snowing heavily all day, and taehyung briefly heard something about a snow storm coming earlier on the tv, so jimin’s news doesn’t surprise him.    “i’m sorry,” he says.   “it’s not your fault,” jimin says with a shrug.    “i know, i’m still sorry though.”   “why?” jimin laughs humourlessly. “cause you’re not getting rid of me for another few days?”   taehyung frowns at him, “no?”   in any other situation taehyung would give him a piece of his mind, but his intention isn’t to make jimin even more upset than he already is, so he doesn’t say more than that.    taehyung intends to end the day as peacefully as it started, and he thinks, given jimin’s mood, he’d appreciate that too.    he seems to be right, because jimin only hums and continues to stuff his mouth with food.    it’s about fifteen minutes later when he speaks up again.    “do you wanna smoke?”   taehyung is taken aback for a moment.    not because of what jimin asks, but what his question implies. smoking together would mean spending time together. just the two of them. alone.   and they’ve never done much of anything alone.    taehyung thinks the fact that they’ve already spent half an hour together in their living room without bickering is pushing their luck.    “um,” he scratches the back of his neck.   he’s about to turn jimin down when he stops himself. if he’s being honest with himself he could do with some weed ( free weed, he notes in his head) right now, and there’s something in the look jimin’s giving him, something hopeful, that makes taehyung cave in.    he sighs, “why not.”    “great,” jimin gets up from his seat, taking his empty bowl to the kitchen with him.    he makes a quick detour to his bedroom before he comes back, holding a little plastic bag in his hand.    he sits down on the floor at the table and takes out everything he needs from the little bag. they don’t speak while jimin grinds the marijuana, putting it neatly on the piece of paper and rolling it up.    taehyung watches as he licks a stripe across the edge of the paper, pinching the end and rolling it tightly in between his fingers.    once he’s done he takes the lighter that was sitting on the table and pushes himself backwards, so he can sit with his back against the sofa taehyung’s sitting on.    he puts the joint in his mouth, and brings up his lighter, inhaling deeply when he lights it up.    taehyung can’t seem to take his eyes off of him, while jimin slowly exhales the smoke. he takes another quick drag, then gives the joint to taehyung.   the first inhale almost makes taehyung choke up, and he has to clear his throat to stop himself from coughing. it’s not his first time smoking weed but the first drag always catches him unprepared.    when he looks down at jimin, there’s a distant look on his face, and they don't say anything for a little while, just passing the joint between themselves.    taehyung lets his gaze wander to the window. the snow is falling in big chunks now, slowly covering everything in white. there are a few street lamps here and there casting light on the streets, but it’s almost as if they’re not really needed.    the snow makes the night look less dark than it usually is.    “i love snow,” jimin’s quiet voice cuts through the silence, making taehyung avert his gaze over to him.    jimin is looking past him, through the window.    “always did, ever since i was little,” he continues with a small smile on his face. “so much that i never missed the first snowfall. i always made my mom promise she’d wake me up for it. she used to shake her head at me, but she always ended up doing it.”    taehyung chuckles, drawing jimin’s eyes to him, and he doesn’t miss how jimin’s smile grows wider.    “it became a sort of a tradition for us,” he says. “no matter what time of the day it was, we would always watch the first snowfall together. and whenever we couldn’t physically be together, she would call me.”    “that’s cute,” taehyung says, imagining little jimin being excited over the first snowfall.    “yeah,” jimin nods his head, a look of fondness on his face.    “this is probably the first time i’m annoyed that it’s snowing,” he sighs, looking past taehyung again. “kinda wish it wouldn’t.”    taehyung doesn’t know if it’s the weed messing with his mind already or the sadness in jimin’s voice, but he wants to make him feel better.    “when i was six i made these snow ducks,” he says, attempting to lighten up the mood. “and i was really scared they would melt by the morning, so i had the brilliant idea to put them in our fridge.”    “no,” jimin says, clearly trying to hold back his laughter.    “yes,” taehyung says, nodding his head. “turns out that was a really bad idea. my mom spent an hour cleaning out the water from the fridge. she wasn’t happy about it.”    “oh i bet,” jimin giggles, covering his mouth with his hand.    it stirs something deep in taehyung’s stomach, makes him feel like he’s sixteen again hearing jimin’s laugh for the first time.    “it’s really not funny,” taehyung points a finger at him. “i was so sad.”   jimin pouts at him.    “i even gave them names,” taehyung says sadly, reminiscing.     “no,” jimin says, dragging out the word. he sounds genuinely sad for him, and it almost makes taehyung giggle. “did you make them again the next year?”    “i did,” taehyung answers. “but after that i never took them inside again. surprisingly they lasted longer outside in the snow.”   “who would’ve thought?” jimin smiles at him, raising his eyebrows in fake wonder.    they both burst into giggles, finding the story probably a lot funnier than it actually is. taehyung is strangely glad to see the change in mood in jimin though, and something very similar to pride settles in his chest, knowing he’s the reason for it.    it’s an unusual feeling, but taehyung welcomes it without much thought, too caught up in the sound of their laughter.    “can i make a slightly weird comment?” jimin asks all of a sudden.    taehyung gives him a quizzical look, trying to decipher anything from his face, but he comes up empty handed.    he usually does when it comes to jimin.   “okay, go ahead.”    “maybe this is the weed talking,” jimin takes a deep breath. “but this feels oddly nice.”    taehyung tries not to let the surprise show on his face. it’s not that he doesn’t feel the same way, it’s just that he didn’t expect jimin to so openly say what they were apparently both thinking.    taehyung sees this part of jimin only when they’re hanging out with their friends. it’s the part that always makes him wonder what things would be like between them if taehyung had let go of his anger.    and also the part that makes him feel guilty about not letting go of his anger.    “uh,” taehyung struggles to get his words out. “yeah. it does.”    he nods his head in confirmation, more to assure himself than jimin.    “is this a good time to tell you i forgot to do the laundry this morning?”    taehyung snaps his head towards him.    “are you serious?” he asks.    “i forgot it was my turn, so i didn’t wake up earlier,” jimin starts explaining to taehyung, gesturing around with his hands. “and when i realised, it was already too late because i had to get to class. so, yeah. didn’t do the laundry.”   “wouldn’t you need clean clothes to take home with you?” taehyung asks him incredulously.    “good thing my flight got cancelled?” jimin offers sheepishly.   taehyung snorts at him, “you’re incredible.”    “i’m a forgetful person, you can’t hold that against me,” jimin raises his hands up in defense.    “incredible,” taehyung shakes his head at him.    oddly enough he’s less annoyed at jimin than he’d usually be. maybe it’s the pity he feels about his flight getting cancelled.      or maybe it’s the little voice in his head that’s telling him to not ruin this easy-going energy they’ve established between them for the first time.    that’s why he finds himself saying, “what if we go do it right now?”    “huh?” jimin looks at him in confusion.    “we can do the laundry right now,” taehyung repeats himself.   “together?” jimin raises his eyebrows in surprise.    “unless you want to do it alone,” taehyung says, already pushing himself off the sofa.    “no, no,” jimin rushes to say. “we can do it now. let me go get the basket.”    jimin stands up, handing the joint over to taehyung, and then he quickly leaves for the bathroom.    while he’s gone taehyung takes it upon himself to roll another joint, seeing as they’ve almost finished the first one.    jimin comes back into the living room, laundry basket in his hands, just as taehyung stands up, already feeling light on his feet. he laughs at himself when he starts swaying from side to side, swinging his arms along with his body.    “you okay there?” jimin asks, trying to hold back an amused smile.    “do you ever think about how funny it is that we have limbs?”    jimin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the question, “not really?”    “you should,” taehyung tells him seriously, and walks past him to the door without another word.    “okay,” jimin says with a chuckle, trailing behind him.    the way down to the laundry room is quiet. if taehyung wasn’t hyper focused on everything he wouldn’t notice the smidge of awkwardness in the air.    it doesn’t bother him though. the shift in energy between them is so apparent, it’d be weird if there wasn’t any awkwardness.    the laundry room is just right in size. there’s a big table in the middle of the room and there are washing machines and dryers lined up across all four walls, which are coloured a light emerald green, much like the rest of the walls in the building.    taehyung has always found the colour quite pretty.     “there’s nobody here,” jimin says as he opens the door for them, and turns on the light.    “why doesn’t that surprise me,” taehyung says. “can’t imagine a better way to spend a friday evening than doing the laundry.”    “hey, this is fun,” jimin protests, setting the basket on the floor in front of his feet and kneels down.    taehyung sits down behind him on the table.    “yeah,” he says quietly. “it is.”    jimin glances at him for a quick second, then goes on to load the washing machine.    taehyung leaves him to it, while he brings the new joint to his lips and lights it up.    “is this what you meant by doing the laundry together,” jimin looks back up at him. “you sitting pretty while i do all the work?”    “you want me to go sit pretty upstairs?” taehyung asks, motioning towards the stairs with his hand.    jimin shakes his head with a smile, “no, i’d rather have you here.”    “that’s what i thought,” taehyung raises his chin up, puffing out his chest.    jimin chuckles and continues putting the clothes in the washing machine all by himself. that’s when taehyung notices that jimin’s been folding the clothes before putting them in the washing machine one by one.    “why are you folding them?” he asks, confused.    “my mom used to do it like this,” jimin answers him. “she said this way they don’t come out as wrinkly.”    “i usually just shove them in there.”   “why doesn’t that surprise me,” jimin chuckles, and though he doesn’t say it in a malicious way, taehyung still takes offense to it.    “what’s that supposed to mean?” he scrunches his eyebrows at jimin, his voice accusatory.    “you’re impatient, taehyung-ah,” jimin says, as he puts the last piece of clothing in, and closes the washing machine, putting in the detergent and fabric softener. “you like to get things done quickly.”   what he says is true and taehyung knows it.   in fact, it’s a quality taehyung’s been trying hard to change about himself. it has cost him a lot of hobbies, because usually if he’s not good at something right away, he simply gives up.    the silence must give away his thoughts, because jimin looks at him with an all too knowing smile.    “you know i’m right,” he says, as he pushes the start button and suddenly the previously quiet room gets filled with the sound of the washing machine working.    “we all have flaws,” taehyung shrugs, though he feels defeated.    “there are things worth taking your time with,” jimin says, an easy smile accompanying his words.    taehyung doesn’t want to assume what all he could possibly mean by that.    “mmh,” he nods his head lazily.   “pass me the joint?”    taehyung extends his arm, offering it to jimin, and leans back on his hands once he takes it.    “do you think we’ll get in trouble for smoking here?” taehyung asks.    “not if we don’t get caught,” jimin winks at him with a mischievous smile.    “idiot,” taehyung rolls his eyes, but he can’t fight the smile off his face.    taehyung closes his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opens them again his gaze lands on the crack in the ceiling near the light. it’s not the first time he’s noticed it, but it catches his attention.   maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him, but it looks a bit bigger than it was the last time he was here. it fills taehyung’s chest with uneasiness, and he makes a mental note to tell the maintenance guy to check it out.    when his eyes land on jimin, he’s already looking at taehyung.    “what?” he asks him.   “i lost you there for a minute,” jimin says quietly, an inquiring edge to his voice.    “i got distracted,” taehyung tells him. he chuckles when he gets reminded of a funny memory. “you know, first time i got really high i was at this house party, and there was a guy there i liked. i was already kind of just floating around, but he came up to me and asked me if i’d ever tried shotgunning before and obviously i said no, even though i had. jungkook had made me try it with him.”    “of course,” jimin chuckles, shaking his head.    “so i took my chance, told him he could show me, and he did,” taehyung remembers how he’d been nervous about it even with how high he was. “by the time we were done i was in a whole other realm.”   jimin snorts, “did anything happen between you and the guy?”    “no,” taehyung shakes his head. “they had those speakers, you know the ones that light up in different colours to the beat?”    jimin nods his head, a look of puzzlement crossing his face.    “well, i was so out of it i ended up just staring at them for about half an hour before yoongi found me, and we went home.”   taehyung catches the exact moment jimin loses it and bursts into laughter, unable to hold it in anymore. taehyung can’t blame him for laughing though, joining in a second later.    at first he’d been mad at himself for missing his chance with his crush, but it’s become something he can laugh about.    “oh that’s great,” jimin says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “wait, so he just left you there?”    “jimin-ah, i was having an out of body experience, what else was the poor guy supposed to do” taehyung shakes his head in disappointment. “i was so close to getting a kiss too.”    “you’re such a loser,” jimin teases.    taehyung flips him off.    “at least we’ll always have shotgunning,” he says with a sigh.    “you know, i’ve never done that before,” jimin frowns, cocking his head to the side.    “really?”   for some reason taehyung finds that hard to believe. he also feels this sense of superiority, taking pride in having done something jimin has not.    “yeah,” jimin says. “i don’t smoke that often, and when i do, i usually smoke alone. so i’ve never really had the chance to try it.”    taehyung pauses and tilts his head, looking at jimin deep in thought.    there’s a part of him that wants to tease jimin about it, but a bigger part of him is entertaining the idea of offering to show him how it’s done. it’s got more to do with that feeling of superiority than anything else. at least that’s what taehyung’s telling himself.    his head feels a little too fuzzy to be able to think about it too hard.    “you wanna try right now?” taehyung asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can.    jimin’s eyes go wide for a second.    “okay?” he says, the uncertainty thick in his voice. it makes taehyung frown, but jimin is quick to correct himself. “i mean yeah. yes i do.”    taehyung nods his head and reaches out with his hand, signaling for jimin to give him the joint. jimin takes a step forward, and passes it to him. taehyung puts it in between his lips, and fishes out the lighter from his pocket, lighting it up while taking a small drag.    he releases the smoke in the space between them, and puts the lighter back in his pocket.    “you have to come closer.”   taehyung laughs when jimin reluctantly takes another step forward, leaving quite a bit of space between them still.    the weed does a good job at keeping taehyung’s nerves at bay, and he throws all caution to the wind when he grabs jimin by the arm and gently pulls him towards himself, until he’s standing in between taehyung’s open legs.    “you just gotta inhale the smoke i blow into your mouth, okay?”    “i know how it goes, taehyung-ah,” jimin rolls his eyes playfully.    “you annoy me immensely,” taehyung says, unamused.    “i know,” jimin smirks, seemingly satisfied with himself.    taehyung bites down a reply, and brings the joint up to his lips, taking a long drag, watching how the tip burns.    he holds the smoke in this time, bringing his free hand up to jimin’s neck, and pulling him in closer to his own face. once they’re close enough, taehyung slightly tilts his head to the side, bringing his lips right over jimin’s open ones, and he slowly exhales the smoke into his mouth.    taehyung keeps his eyes down on the small space between them. on the way some of the smoke goes up in the air around their lips.    on how they’re almost touching.    when he leans back a little, jimin’s eyes are already staring intensely at his own, as he exhales slowly.    “do you like it?” taehyung asks after a moment, taking another small drag for the sake of keeping the joint lit up.    “i’m not sure,” jimin says, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “maybe we should try again?”    despite how confident jimin tries to sound, there’s no hiding the small glimmer of fear in his eyes. taehyung stupidly wants to chase it away.    so he says, “sure.”    this time around taehyung doesn’t have to pull him in, jimin leans in himself, his hands going on each side of taehyung, so he’s leaning on them on the table.    their noses touch before taehyung tilts his head again, and blows the smoke into jimin’s waiting mouth. he lingers there a little longer than he did before, and jimin has to turn his head to the side to exhale the smoke.    when he turns back around, there’s a smirk on his face.    “i think i like it,” he says.    from this close taehyung can make out every specific little red vein in jimin’s eyes.    “do you wanna try doing it?” taehyung asks, his voice a little shaky.    “mhmm,” jimin nods once.    now, taehyung could simply hand the joint over to him like they’ve been doing it all this time.    he could.    except his brain to arm coordination decides to malfunction right in that moment, and he ends up bringing the joint to jimin’s lips himself. jimin doesn’t even look surprised by the action. he takes it in between his lips as natural as ever and he takes a drag, his eyes never leaving taehyung's.    once he’s done taehyung puts his hand back down and he leans in, lowering his head a little so he’s slightly looking up at jimin. jimin removes his hands from where he was leaning on them on the table and taehyung gasps when he softly grabs his jaw, leaning in until their lips are slightly touching.    jimin releases the smoke into taehyung’s mouth, and the latter inhales it slowly, his eyes darting up to jimin’s. when he can’t hold it in any longer, taehyung turns his head slightly to exhale, the same way jimin did earlier, and then they’re facing each other again.   jimin doesn’t make a move to put some distance between them, and taehyung isn’t too sure anymore if the weed is the only thing he can credit for making his head spin.    taehyung is so used to having to look down at jimin, that the change in positions is making him want to curl into himself because of how small he feels.   but maybe that has something to do with how jimin is glancing down at his lips as well.    “can we try something else too?” jimin asks all of a sudden.    taehyung notes how he can feel his breath on his skin.    “depends what it is.”   “can i kiss you?” jimin asks, his voice low.    taehyung’s breath visibly hitches, and for a split second he feels sober. in that quick second he’s slapped back into reality, and the weight of the situation feels heavy in his chest.    they shouldn’t be doing this.    but jimin is staring at him with the kind of intensity taehyung has never seen from him before, and taehyung foolishly wants to let himself go.    “yes,” he breathes out in that moment, and before he can dwell on what he just agreed to, jimin’s lips are on his.    for a little while everything stops, there’s only jimin’s lips on his own, and then the world starts spinning again and all he can feel is jimin everywhere. chest to chest, one hand roaming all over back, the other gently holding his jaw.    jimin washes over all his senses and it’s enough to silence taehyung’s thoughts.    taehyung parts his lips, letting jimin’s tongue slip in, intensifying the kiss, and he secures his hands around jimin’s waist, pulling him in even closer.    heat raises from taehyung’s belly to his cheeks when they part for air, jimin’s eyes on him making his head spin even more. jimin must notice his blush, because he smirks and is about to open his mouth to say something, when taehyung crashes their lips together once more, not giving him the chance to do so.    jimin doesn’t seem to mind though, eagerly leaning into the kiss, his fingers digging into taehyung’s side, making him shiver.    taehyung is about to slip his own fingers under jimin’s shirt, when the door creaks open and they jump apart, taehyung’s heart beating out of his chest.    there’s an old lady standing at the doorway holding a laundry basket. taehyung recognises her as their neighbour that lives one floor above them, who always gets visited by her grandkids on the weekends.    taehyung knows this because he has to listen to them running around her apartment every saturday and sunday morning.    right now her eyes are wide and she seems to be too stunned to speak. taehyung sees jimin swiping at his forehead from the corner of his eye, before he speaks.    “good evening, mrs. lee,” jimin says politely, slightly stuttering through his words. “we were just, er…doing the laundry.”    she only nods her head, and heads to one of the washing machines on the opposite side of the room.    that’s when taehyung snaps out of his daze, and stands up ready to get the hell out of there, when he hears jimin clear his throat.    when he looks at him, jimin is aggressively pointing at something on the ground with his eyes. taehyung gives him a questioning look, before he looks down, and sees the joint right next to his foot. he must’ve dropped it while they were making out.    making out.    taehyung suddenly feels like he got punched in the stomach, the air in his lungs no longer enough to keep him breathing properly.    still, he bends down and picks up the joint, and they leave the laundry room as quickly as they can, almost sprinting up the stairs.    they don’t stop until they reach their apartment, and the door is securely closed behind them.    jimin then bursts into laughter, leaning his body on the door for support.    “holy… fuck…,” he barely manages to say in between his laughter. “poor lady is probably traumatised.”    “yeah,” taehyung forces out a chuckle, his mind racing with thoughts that are anything but funny.    jimin kissed him.    and what’s worse is taehyung kissed him right back.    jimin seems to notice his sour expression, because he sobers up quickly and regards taehyung with a slight frown.    “hey, are you okay?”    “yeah, i’m fine,” taehyung dismisses him, trying to sound casual. he places the joint on the table, and he can’t help but feel uneasy with how jimin’s monitoring his every move. “i have to wake up early tomorrow, so i’m going to bed.”    jimin’s frown deepens, seeming confused for a second, but then he smiles reasurringly.    “listen if you’re scared she’ll rat on us for smoking, don’t worry about it. it didn’t even smell that much, and i’m pretty sure she has a cat which is against the rules so we can blackma-”   “it’s fine, jimin-ah,” taehyung raises his hand to stop him. “i’m just tired. good night.”    he doesn’t wait to hear jimin’s quiet good night nor the way the smile slowly falls off his face.    taehyung doesn’t fall asleep easily. he tosses and turns, until the silence becomes too much, and he has to shove his headphones into his ears and blast music to distract himself.    even then his eyes don’t flutter shut until the early hours of the morning.    in the short time taehyung has lived with jimin, he’s learned a few things about him.    one of them being how jimin loves sleeping in when he can. despite being a night owl, taehyung still wakes up fairly early in the morning and unless jimin has dance practice, he never wakes up before taehyung on the weekends.    that saturday morning taehyung wakes up to an empty apartment and a pile of his folded clean clothes on the living room sofa.    ⁎   namjoon and seokjin came into taehyung’s life at around the same time.    taehyung’s never been one to think too much about whether or not fate is real, but he likes to believe that in this case namjoon and seokjin’s meeting must’ve been written in the stars.    namjoon quite literally stumbled into his life. taehyung met him in their university’s library when namjoon bumped into him, dropping all his books. he’d apologised profusely, and taehyung remembers even now the exact shade of red his cheeks had turned. he’d helped him pick up his books and namjoon scurried away before taehyung could even get his name.    that would’ve been it, had the same thing not happened to them two weeks later. that time around taehyung managed to learn more than just his name though.    turned out when he’s not too busy blushing, namjoon was quite an easy person to have a conversation with. taehyung found out that the reason he was always in a hurry was because namjoon didn’t go to his university and he was using his free time in between lectures to read up on art books.    he actually attended the same university as yoongi, and they’d come to the conclusion that they even shared some classes.   taehyung thought what namjoon was doing was cute. later on it made a lot more sense to him. namjoon’s love for art went beyond the boundaries of music.   it’s one of the things that made it so easy for them to bond. slowly namjoon made his way not only into taehyung’s heart, but yoongi and jungkook’s as well.    all the while seokjin was doing the exact same thing and suddenly their little friend group wasn’t so little anymore.    seokjin was introduced to them as jungkook’s friend. the story goes seokjin was looking to make quick cash and jungkook was on the hunt for his perfect model for one of his first exhibitions after the one he had cancelled on him at the last minute. they hit it off at the shoot, and jungkook hadn’t stopped talking about his seokjin-hyung until he introduced him to them.    so whenever taehyung thinks about what brought namjoon and seokjin together, he finds it hard to believe fate didn’t have a hand in it.    “a penny for your thoughts?”    taehyung snaps his head towards namjoon, realising he must’ve spaced out.    “when was the last time you had cash on you?” taehyung raises a brow at him.    “fair point,” namjoon chuckles. “you can still tell me what you’re thinking about though.”    he has this kind smile on his face, the type that makes his dimples stick out, and it makes taehyung feel comfortable. it tells him that he’s here and he’ll listen, but it also tells him that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk.    namjoon is a really easy person to open up to though, so taehyung always somehow ends up talking.    “i’m just wondering how much of our life is determined by fate,” taehyung sighs, turning his head to face the window.    it’s often that taehyung joins namjoon at the library. usually they come with the intention of studying, and though sometimes they easily fall into a comfortable silence, both engrossed into whatever subject they’re next exam is in, most of the time they end up just talking.    “fate?”   taehyung turns back to face namjoon, finding him with an amused smile on his face.    “yes,” taehyung confirms, giving him a pointed look. “i was thinking about you and seokjin-hyung.”    taehyung pauses, waiting to see if namjoon might give him a sign that he doesn’t want to talk about this. it can be a touchy subject sometimes, but namjoon only nods his head, urging taehyung to continue.    “how it feels like you were just,” he waves his hands around, trying to find the right words. “ meant to find each other.”    “why do you think that?” namjoon asks, shifting in his seat. he slowly closes the book in front of him.    “you weren’t supposed to be in that library, hyung,” taehyung says. “and jungkook had another model. or the fact that hyung responded to his ad on craigslist? who even does that?”    namjoon chuckles but nods his head in agreement.    “i’m just saying so many things could’ve gone differently and yet you two still would’ve found your way to each other,” he says the words with a small smile, his eyes on the table in front of him. “if you hadn’t met me, i’m sure yoongi-hyung would’ve grown some balls and approached you.”    after they met for the first time, yoongi had admitted that he’d already known of namjoon from uni and he’d been gathering the courage to approach him because he liked one of his songs he’d uploaded to youtube.    later on, he also admitted he didn’t like only one of his songs.    “hey if he didn’t do it, i would’ve,” namjoon smiles, pointing a finger at taehyung.    “that’s what i mean,” taehyung says. “even if it wasn’t for us. hyung works at your favourite bookstore for crying out loud. you would’ve crossed paths one way or another.”    around the time they met, seokjin had been scheduled for a job interview at a bookstore. taehyung still remembers the look of pure excitement on namjoon’s face when he’d found out the name of the bookstore.    “you were meant to be in each other’s lives,” taehyung finishes off, tapping his finger on the table for emphasis.    “is this one of your ways of trying to convince me to make a move?” namjoon asks, the suspicion clear in his voice.     taehyung chuckles, shaking his head, “no. believe it or not i do think you’ll work it out yourselves.”    namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise, “that’s a new one.”    “hey i’ve always had the most faith in you.”   namjoon seems to think about it for a little, but he quickly gives in, “that’s true, thank you.”    taehyung winks at him in response.    a comfortable silence settles in between them. their conversations are usually accompanied by these kinds of moments of silence. something taehyung’s always admired namjoon for is how thoughtful he is when choosing his words. when it comes to the important things he never rushes.    “i think we get to make our own choices to some extent,” namjoon says, a thoughtful look on his face. “and if something, or someone is meant to be in your life then you’ll find your way to them one way or another. no matter what choices you make.”    taehyung nods his head slowly, digesting his words.    “and call me corny but i don’t think seokjin was the only one i was meant to find,” namjoon tells him matter-of-factly.   taehyung laughs, “i think so too.”    “good,” namjoon nods his head in contentment. “what made you think about this?”   taehyung shakes his head, slightly raising his shoulders to signify he doesn’t know.    which is partially a lie because taehyung has a pretty good idea about why this has been plaguing his mind since he woke up this morning.    it all goes down to one person. the same person he’s been thinking about non-stop for the past week.    a small part of him wonders if fate really is real, then maybe jimin showing up at his doorstep all these years later isn’t just a big coincidence.    maybe jimin is exactly where he was always supposed to be.    and taehyung doesn’t quite know what to do with that information.    namjoon smiles at him warmly, probably sensing his hesitation, and he doesn’t push for an answer. instead he says something that makes taehyung almost choke on his own spit.    “you know, seokjin and i talked about everything.”    “what?” taehyung asks dumbly.   “that night after we left your place,” namjoon continues talking. “we were both still a little drunk, him more than me, and he ended up whining to me about how i’ve never tried to kiss him. he was pouting about it the whole way to his place.”    taehyung covers his mouth with his hand in shock.    “when we got there he fell asleep before we could talk about anything, which was good because it was definitely a conversation for when we were sober,” namjoon snorts, shaking his head a little. “so i slept on his couch, and in the morning we talked.”   taehyung waits for namjoon to continue talking, but when he doesn’t he urges him with wide eyes, “well?”    namjoon laughs, “we decided to take things slow.”    taehyung’s jaw falls open.   “holy shit,” he says, looking at namjoon with a mix of happiness and shock. “holy shit.”    “you’re always so dramatic,” namjoon laughs again, but he looks relieved. taehyung’s own heart feels a lot lighter now, so he can only imagine how namjoon must be feeling.    “i’m so happy for you, hyung,” taehyung says, smiling so hard it almost hurts his jaw. “i’m so happy for the both of you. it was about time.”    “thank you,” namjoon smiles back, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.    taehyung is so happy right now, he’s not even going to tease him about it.    “holy shit,” taehyung repeats himself, then halts. “wait, does jungkook know?”    “no,” namjoon snorts. “seokjin is still trying to figure out the best way to tell him. the best he’s come up with so far is we just kiss in front of him and watch him lose his mind.”   “oh, that’s cruel,” taehyung laughs imagining jungkook’s face in that situation.    “no but we decided to wait a little before telling anyone,” namjoon says. “you’re the first person to find out.”    taehyung smiles proudly, puffing out his chest, “i feel honoured.”    “oh shut up,” namjoon waves his hands dismissively. “we decided i could tell you five minutes before i left to see you.”    “so you were at his place?” taehyung wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.    namjoon doesn’t even look amused.    “okay, i’m sorry,” taehyung straightens up in his seat. “i’ll leave the teasing to jungkook.”    “yeah,” namjoon sighs, his eyes filled with dread.    “hey,” taehyung says, serious again. “i really am happy for you.”    “thank you, taehyung-ah,” namjoon smiles gratefully at him. “i’m happy too.”   taehyung can see it. there’s a little glimmer in his eyes, and his smile looks a lot brighter than usual. he wonders how he didn’t notice it before.    namjoon is radiating happiness.    the news makes taehyung think about his own situation again. namjoon and seokjin talked everything through and now they’re happy.    all taehyung did was run away.    “we kissed, hyung,” taehyung sighs, letting himself acknowledge it for the first time since it happened.   he’s been keeping himself busy all week in an attempt to avoid thinking about it, and jimin not being around has made it a lot easier.    “jimin and i kissed,” he says again, keeping his eyes on the book in front of him, not daring to look at namjoon yet. “right before he left to go home.”    he hates to admit it, but it feels good being able to say it out loud.    “it’s weird because it felt nice,” taehyung bites the inside of his cheek. “not just the kiss itself, but the way it was between us that night. it felt nice talking to him.”    maybe that’s the part that scares taehyung the most. he could’ve easily written off the kiss as something else, something less than it was. a spur of the moment kind of thing. they’re both attractive, it was bound to happen.    except it wasn’t just about the kiss.   “why is that weird?” namjoon asks quietly.    “because it’s not what we’re like,” taehyung says, finally looking up at him. “it’s like i’ve convinced myself that he’s this certain way, and that we’re this certain way, and now that i’ve seen a glimpse of how it could be instead, i don’t know what to do with that.”   “worst part is at first i was genuinely petty about what happened between us,” he says after a beat of silence. “but then i started seeing the parts of him that made me like him back then and it wasn’t about anger anymore. it was fear. it is fear.”   fear that if taehyung lets his walls down, jimin will do what he did to him again.     the realisation hits taehyung like a train.    they’re both quiet for a while, namjoon giving taehyung time to process his own words. taehyung doesn’t know what it is about talking things out with namjoon that makes it so much easier for him to confront his own feelings, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless.    “you know i don’t do well with change,” taehyung smiles sadly.    “i do,” namjoon nods in consideration, and slightly leans towards taehyung over the table. “but it doesn’t have to be a bad kind of change, taehyung-ah. you want to hear my advice?”    “please,” taehyung makes a begging motion with his hands, making namjoon chuckle.    “i know it’s scarier because you let yourself be hurt by him once, but that was a long time ago,” he says, a gentleness to his voice taehyung’s grown to love. “try setting that image you have of him aside for a second, and let yourself look at him as he is now and maybe you’ll see some things you’ve failed to notice before.”    namjoon’s words stay with taehyung for the rest of the day. they echo in his head as he goes about his daily chores, and later they make it hard to fall asleep.    he lets himself think about them until the end of the week when jimin comes back home.    and if his heart does a little happy dance when jimin greets him with a cute smile, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

“Hello, League of Villains,” a disembodied voice intoned. “You are under attack.” Chaos erupted. The figures coming through the warp gate seemed to be bringing darkness with them. Dabi ignited himself, and from the frantic strobing light of his fire, he could see the room filled with amorphous bodies. Nearby Spinner and Toga were slashing at them left and right to no avail. Shigaraki gave a panicked gasp when his hands phased through his attackers. One came close enough to touch Dabi. It was freezing to the touch, like water from the bottom of the ocean.  They surged forward, engulfing Compress and Twice in a wave of viscous beings. Dabi countered with a flaming wave of his own. The beings dissipated where the blue fire touched them. All around, Dabi was surrounded by the roiling black mass, closing in everywhere his fire wasn’t. Sometimes someone would surface, Toga gasping for air before disappearing again, or Kurogiri’s wispy hand.  Dabi’s eyes widened when a face he was not expecting appeared.  Hawks emerged briefly from the torrent with a cry, but was quickly pulled back in. “Hawks?!” Dabi’s fire nearly sputtered out in disbelief.   “Save me!” Hawks cried, appearing again. “Save Omelet!” And Omelet was there too, ejected from the darkness and falling, falling…  Dabi tried to catch the egg, but it fell, shattering on the ground in a perfect sunny side up-- Dabi woke with a gasp.  What a stupid nightmare. If Omelet’s shell broke, he would just be like… a mostly formed baby at this point. Which would be infinitely more horrifying, so he was glad for his subconscious' cartoonish representation. Also why would Hawks be with the League-- Hawks was trying to join the League.  “Babe?” Hawks asked groggily beside him. “You okay?”  Dabi grunted in reply.  “Nightmare?” Hawks asked, sitting up.  “Yeah,” Dabi admitted despite himself. “‘Was stupid.”   “Mm.” Hawks leaned against him. “Wanna talk about it?” Did he… want to talk about his stupid nightmare with Hawks? “No.”  Hawks shrugged, unperturbed. “I’m going back to sleep. Can you check on Omelet?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he was snoring lightly again.  Dabi pulled on a shirt after checking on Omelet (he was fine, the electric blanket worked like a charm). He needed to take a walk. He needed to think seriously, which was always a chore.  It was below freezing and the cold air stung his sutures.  Hawks was trying to join the League. Dabi was like at least 70….60….51% sure that it was for non-villainous reasons. But if Hawks did join the League, and if he was a villain, what kind of life would Omelet have? Would they hire a babysitter while they went and did League stuff? Would they bring Omelet to League meetings? What if they got attacked again? Raised by two villains, what chance would Omelet have at a normal life?  What would Dabi do if Hawks were part of the League and they got attacked? Even the idea of it made him feel weird and on edge. He was going to have to like… protect him. Dabi didn’t protect people! Plus the League would definitely never leave him alone if they saw how disgustingly soft he had started acting towards Hawks.  The sky had turned to a milky indigo when he returned. Hawks was dumping (literally dumping) sugar in his coffee (that was mostly creamer anyway). He looked up. “Did you have a nice walk?” His eyes squinched up like they always did when he was about to say something particularly irritating. “Did you get the zoomies?”  “We need to talk,” Dabi said.  Immediately Hawks’ demeanor changed. It wouldn’t have been immediately apparent to anyone who hadn’t been spending all day every day with him for the past month or so, but Dabi saw how his relaxed stance and expression became deliberate, how his gaze sharpened.  “Sure!” The nonchalance in his voice was frighteningly convincing. Had he always been such a good liar? “What about?” Dabi didn’t like that Hawks was so on guard. He didn’t want this to be a bad conversation. He didn’t want… he didn’t want Hawks to think he was being mean. He was doing this for Omelet (and for Hawks, but he wasn’t ready to admit that). Hawks relaxed a little when Dabi gently wrapped his arms around his middle. He responded immediately, draping his arms over Dabi’s shoulders and leaned up into the offered kiss.  Dabi wasn’t good at words or feelings or really a lot other than destroying things, but he liked to think he was a good kisser. He tried his best to convey his feelings in the kiss: that he cared about Hawks, that Omelet was probably the best thing to have happened to him, that he was trying to preserve this, what they had. This was a lot to convey, so obviously he had to kiss Hawks very intensely to express all this.  Hawks pulled away with a (...cute) squeak when Dabi went in with tongue.  “Hey now,” he laughed. “It’s a bit early for all that. And as nice as this is, it’s not exactly a conversation.”   Dabi grumbled (definitely not pouting) and rested his forehead against Hawks’. Well, there really was no point in beating around the bush, now was there? “You can’t join the League,” said Dabi.  Hawks blinked in confusion. “What? D-did your leader say no?”  “No,” Dabi scoffed. “I did.” Hawks pulled away, looking betrayed. “Why?!”  Dabi rolled his eyes. “Think about it. What’s it gonna be like for Omelet if he has two villain parents?” Hawks was shaking his head in disbelief. “I’d still be posing as a hero, the public wouldn’t have to know! It wouldn’t affect him.”  “Yeah, because one parent who’s openly a villain doing dangerous things and one parent who’s leading a double life is the best situation for a kid. Where would you have time for him? What if I get arrested? What if we both get arrested?” “Have more faith in me than that,” Hawks said, sounding hurt. “We can make plans for if something happens to us. This doesn’t have to stop anything--” “Screw what happens to us, do you really want your son growing up to be a villain?!” Dabi raised his voice.  “Newsflash, you are a villain!” Hawks yelled in return. “And it’s better than him growing up to be a hero!” Heat simmered under Dabi’s skin. “I know I’m a villain, that’s how I know it’s the last thing I want for my kid!” “Yeah? Well I could say the same thing!” Hawks’ eyes blazed.  “So raise the kid normal! We can’t do that if we’re both villains,” Dabi said. Why didn’t Hawks get it?  “So now you want me to quit being a hero too?” Hawks accused. “I don’t give a damn what else you do, but you’re not going to be a villain,” Dabi tried to channel as much authority as he could into his voice. Hawks wasn’t about to change his mind.  Hawks regained some of his composure. “Yeah? And how are you going to stop me?” “I just told you,” Dabi scoffed. “You’re not welcome in the League.” Hawks gave a dry laugh. “Mhm, well, the League aren’t the only villains out there.” “But you can’t do anything by yourself without ruining your image,” Dabi pointed out.  “I’m sure there are other villains who wouldn’t be stupid enough to turn down intel from the Number 2 Hero. Hell, I’m sure there are plenty of villains who would do my bidding.”  “Oh yeah?” Dabi challenged. “I’d like to see that.” “Hm. You’ll see it when I send my minions to destroy the League,” Hawks’ eyes were cold.  “Come on, Birdy, don’t be like that.” Dabi didn’t like how distant Hawks looked. He often considered Hawks to be like a chicken or one of those weirdass birds of paradise, but like this, he could see that he really was a bird of prey. It didn’t scare him, per se, but it filled him with a sense of dread.  “Are you going to reconsider your offer to let me join?” Hawks prompted. “No.” “Then I’m going to ‘be like that,’” Hawks huffed. “You don’t get to tell me to be a stay-at-home parent just because you’re scared. You quit villainy if you’re so concerned.” Dabi shook his head. “I can’t, I have a mission--” “And I don’t?!” Hawks laughed. “I don’t know what the hell is up with your grudge against hero society, but I can tell you, mine is a lot more personal.”  A flash of blue flame flared up like a halo around Dabi. “Yeah? Yeah? You think that, do you? You don’t know the hell I’ve been put through in the name of ‘hero society’--”  “And you don’t know the hell I’ve gone through--” Dabi interrupted him. “Then don’t put Omelet through any! I don’t want our kid anywhere near this shit--”  “You think I do?” Hawks protested. “Yes! Because you still want to be a villain! You’re not in this life yet, you’re free, you can get out!” Dabi said.  “You think that just because I have wings, I’m free?” Hawks said, so quiet, Dabi almost didn’t catch it.  “Well aren’t you?” Why wouldn’t Hawks be free?  “‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,’” Hawks said ryely.  Dabi narrowed his eyes, “Are you quoting song lyrics at me during an argument?”  Hawks ignored him. “I have too much to lose.” “For the first time in my entire goddamn life, I can say the same thing, Birdy,” Dabi growled. He softened his voice. “I don’t want to lose-- this.” He couldn’t put into words the life that he was living with Hawks.  Hawks’ shoulders slumped. “That’s why we both have to do what we need to do. Do you think the world would just let us have this?” “The world doesn’t have to know,” Dabi wasn’t pleading. He wasn’t.  “I don’t think living our life in secret is ideal for Omelet either,” Hawks commented.  Dabi was struck with a crazy thought. “Then let’s just run away.”  Hawks startled. “What?” “Let’s run away,” Dabi repeated. It was a crazy idea. They’d both give up their goals, their missions, but Dabi found he was willing to give up on killing Endeavor for the sake of giving Omelet a good life. The old fire bastard would die eventually anyway. One way or another, Endeavor would die. But he only had one shot at raising Omelet. “Run away,” Hawks echoed. “Where?” “Don’t know, don’t care.” Dabi took Hawks’ face in his hands. “But let’s leave, get away from hero society. ‘Can’t beat ‘em, run away from ‘em’ and all that.” “I don’t think that’s how that quote goes,” said Hawks. “And if you haven’t noticed, hero society is just… society, at this point.” Now there was an idea. “So let’s leave society!” Hawks choked on a laugh. “And, what, be cavemen?”   “I was thinking more like secluded sheepherders, or farmers, or the sole populace of a tropical island,” Dabi said. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll go where you want to go. What do ya say, Birdy?” Hawks looked amused, but his small smile fell away. “Dabi,” he sighed. “We can’t do that.” “But why not?” Dabi protested. “I don’t know how to farm or herd sheep, for one,” Hawks chuckled. “Two, I can’t just… I have a duty. I can’t just let everyone else suffer while I escape to drink piña coladas.” “You have a duty to Omelet, too,” Dabi said.  “Of course I do!” Hawks sounded offended. “But that doesn’t mean I can just walk away from my other duties.”  “We need to stop saying ‘duty,’ or I won’t be able to take this seriously. If you’re working as a hero and moonlighting as a villain, that doesn’t leave a lot of time for anything else,” Dabi pointed out again. “I know you have some weird martyr complex, you want to be the ‘sacrificial lamb,’ or whatever, but that seems pretty mutually exclusive to being a good parent, if you ask me.” “And I’m saying worry about yourself! If you want Omelet to have a stay at home parent, be my guest,” Hawks said. “You’re the one who wants to run away.” “If we’re going to run away, we need to run away. I can’t just change my mind about being a high-profile villain and show up in a few years as Omelet’s school’s PTA president. Can you imagine the bake sales?”  “You’d make an awful PTA president,” Hawks said. Dabi ignored him.  “Look.” Dabi sighed, running a hand over his face. “You’re not in the villain world yet. I can’t tell you what else to do, but just… Don’t be a villain.” “Do you think I’m not capable?” Hawks challenged.  “Nobody is capable!” Dabi said. “As fucked up as the hero world is, the villain world is lawless. Literally. Right now, your only enemies are the villains you fight. In the villain world, everyone is your enemy. And that’s a world I want to keep our baby as far away from as possible.”  “I can protect him! Even if you don’t think you can.” Hawks was defensive.  “Like hell you can! You’re an arrogant spoiled brat who’s too much of a hero in your own mind to know what it means to be anything else.” Well, Dabi was defensive too. “Even as a villain, you want to, what? Save people from hero society? Be the hero for the villains? I’m asking you to take something seriously in your life for once. You need to choose between playing savior or raising your kid, because I’m telling you now, you can’t do both. Heroes don’t make good parents.” “If you haven’t noticed, that’s who I am, that’s how I was raised,” Hawks said bitterly.  “And I’m telling you to change.” Dabi’s voice was burning. “And if I can’t convince you, I can at least stop you from joining the League. You’ll thank me later.” Hawks was silent and for a moment, Dabi thought maybe he had convinced him.  “So your mind’s made up then,” Hawks said.  “Yes,” Dabi confirmed. “You’re not joining the League.” “So you’re no longer my contact to the League.” There was an unidentifiable undertone to his question.  “Guess not,” said Dabi, shrugging. He reached for Hawks’ abandoned ‘coffee’ on the counter. It was as tooth-rotting as he expected, but it was a good distraction.  Hawks cleared his throat. “Then you don’t need to be here.”  Dabi choked, feeling his heart leap. “What?” He croaked out.  “If you’re not going to let me into the League, then there’s no real reason to keep you around, now is there?” Hawks’ voice was glacial.  He… he was just saying that. He had to be. There was no way he was just… a contact. Was that really all he was to him?  “But… Omelet--” Dabi began protesting.  “--Will be fine with just me,” Hawks finished for him. “And you know what? Maybe you’re right. The less contact Omelet has with the villain world, the better. So why don’t you leave?”  Dabi’s mind was racing. No, no, no, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen! He took a step forward. “Hawks--” The mug he was holding fell to the ground and shattered. Hawks had his sword out, and not in the fun kind of way.  He leveled the hardened feather at Dabi. “Get. Out.” Dabi did.   “Guess who’s back and betta than eva!” Dabi announced, slamming open the door of the bar. “I’m a full-time villain again!” He was met with a resounding silence from the rest of the League.  Toga was the first to break it. “Full-time…?” “Yep! Parental leave is over,” he said, taking a seat. “Kurogiri, remember that American shit you gave me that one time like a month ago? Gimme some of that.”  Toga gasped. “Did… Did something happen to Omie?”  Dabi retched after downing a shot of the drink (but still slid the glass back for another). “Omelet’s fine,” he wheezed.  “Then what--? Did Hawks break up with you?” Toga pressed.  Dabi didn’t answer, fixing her with a glare that could have melted flesh from bone.  “Ohh, Dabi-kun…” Toga cooed, sounding genuinely sympathetic.  “What happened?” Spinner asked, once again, reaffirming Dabi’s suspicion that he had no sense of self-preservation. But… maybe he could be useful.  “Spinner.” Dabi turned to him after downing another shot that burned all the way down. “You’re nosy and opinionated, right?” He looked taken aback. “I consider myself to be, yes?”  “Hm,” Dabi hummed. “Then you wanna share your opinion-- which I know you have-- about something?” “Yes! One second, I’ll be right back!” Spinner ran to a bag of his belongings and pulled out a binder (which had a collage of Stain pictures on the front?). He frantically flipped through until apparently finding what he was looking for. “Okay, continue. What seems to be bothering you today?” “Gee, thanks, doc,” Dabi snorted. His head was beginning to feel floaty-- those Americans sure knew how to make alcohol. He was going to blame that for his sudden bout of emotional vulnerability. “I… had a nightmare. About the attack from the other day.” Compress cut in. “You mean the one that over in like two seconds when you realized their only weapon was weak to fire?” “Yeah, that one,” Dabi agreed. “Except Hawks and Omelet were there and Omelet broke.”  Spinner nodded, humming consideringly. He jotted down some notes in his binder. “And how did this nightmare make you feel?” “Shitty,” Dabi deadpanned. “But uh, it made me realize I didn’t want Hawks to join the League.” “Whaaaaaat?” Toga whined. “But I wanted to meet Hawks-kun!”  “You decided that because of a dream?” Kurogiri sounded surprised.  “Yeah, Omelet broke,” Dabi repeated, as if this explained everything.  Spinner nodded again. “Do you believe that Hawks joining the League will directly result in Omelet breaking?” Dabi snorted. “Not directly no. But if we’re both here being villains, who’s gonna watch Omelet?” Toga waved her hand frantically. “Me! Me! I’ll do it! I want to babysit Omie-chan!”  “Dumbass, you’ll be here being a villain too.” Dabi rolled his eyes.  Toga’s hand drooped. “Oh yeah…”  “But she’s right,” Kurogiri said. “You could hire a babysitter.” “Yeah, occasionally, but I need to be the Number 1 Dad, so I don’t want Omelet to be raised by babysitters,” Dabi explained. “Plus, you said it yourselves; this is a high-risk occupation. What happens to Omelet if the League gets busted?” “That’s understandable.” Spinner nodded. “But is there something more? Perhaps… something about Hawks?” “What about him?” Dabi scoffed.  “How do you feel about him, uh, breaking up with you?” Spinner asked cautiously.  “Shitty,” Dabi answered again. “In fact, if you ask a question and ‘shitty’ a reasonable answer, go ahead and assume that’s the answer. But he didn’t even break up with me.” “He didn’t?” Toga perked up.  Dabi shook his head. Toga cheered. “That’s great news! So you just had a fight then?” “Not quite,” Dabi grumbled. “See, if you say he ‘broke up’ with me, that still requires that we were in a relationship in the first place.” Compress tsked. “Dabi, I’m pretty sure you were, or perhaps still are, in a relationship with Hawks.”  Dabi shook his head. “Not according to him.” “Oh,” Compress said dumbly. “Well that does change things.” “What exactly did he say to you?” Spinner prompted. “That if I wasn’t going to be his League contact, I didn’t need to be there, and that if I thought Omelet needed limited contact with the villain world, I should leave.” Spinner nodded. “And how did that make you feel?” “Shitty,” Dabi, and several members of the League, said in sync.  “And which part made you feel ‘shitty?’” Spinner asked in an affectedly calm voice. He was really committing to his therapist persona.  “I dunno, all of it?” Dabi snorted. “What’re you getting at here, chief?”  “Are you upset that you can’t be with Omelet or are you upset you can’t be with Hawks?” Spinner clarified.  “Both?” Dabi wasn’t sure where Spinner was going with this, so he was going to be suspicious by default.  “Why do you feel ‘shitty’ that you can’t be with Hawks?” Spinner asked.  Dabi chuckled. “Two words; dat ass.”  “Nice,” said Toga.  “And is that it?” Spinner prompted, his calm persona beginning to crack.  “I dunno, he has like… one of those comfyass Tempurpedic mattresses,” Dabi said. “I’ll miss that.” Spinner inhaled deeply through his nose. “Anything else?”  Dabi thought about it. He was gonna miss the comfy bed and the sexy birdman to share it with him. Was there really anything else? “I don’t think so?” Spinner was gripping his pen tightly. “You’re not going to miss Hawks himself?” Dabi was confused. “I already said ‘dat ass.’”  Spinner was grinding his teeth. “What about the man attached to ‘dat ass?’”  Dabi blinked slowly. “I mean, sometimes I’m the one who’s--” “I give up!” Spinner cried, tearing the page he was writing on out of his binder. “Does anyone else want to give it a go?” Compress cleared his throat. “I have an idea.” To Dabi he said, “If I may.” Dabi shrugged. “What are you going to do?” “Elucidate some things for you, hopefully,” Compress said with a little bow. “Ooh, ‘elucidate.’ We got a veritable WordGirl over here,” Dabi jeered.  “‘Veritable,’” Compress countered. “Okay, Captain Huggyface." Shigaraki seemed to suffer a sudden bout of coughing.  “It’s a word association game,” Mr. Compress continued.  Dabi took another shot. “Bring it on.” “‘Hawks.’” “Irritating.” “‘Egg.’” “Omelet.” “‘Romance.’” “Can You Feel the Love Tonight by Elton John from Lion King.” “I’m not going to ask.” “Good.” “Marriage.” “The Princess Bride.” Compress looked taken aback. “Have you even seen The Princess Bride?” “Hawks showed it to me,” Dabi explained.  “Ah. I see. ‘Father.’” “Bastard.” “‘Love.’” “Hate.” Compress sighed. “This is harder than I thought it would be. I tag out.” Kurogiri stepped in. “I think perhaps the best route is the direct route. Dabi. How do you feel about Hawks?” Dabi thought about it. Really thought about it, brow furrowing. The League members held their breath. And, “Shitty.” Kurogiri was undeterred. “And positive emotions?” Dabi shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Horny.” “Does horny count as a positive emotion?” Kurogiri asked.  “Does if it works out.” “I see. Any other emotions?” Kurogiri really emphasized the word ‘emotions.’ “I feel kinda stupidly soft about him sometimes,” Dabi admitted. Toga cooed. “And do you know what feeling ‘stupidly soft’ about someone is called?” Kurogiri prompted.  Oh no. Oh hell no.  Dabi gasped, “I have a stupid crush on Hawks!”  The bar erupted into cheers. There was apparently still some leftover confetti from the baby shower forever ago because it was tossed into the air.  “I’m so glad you finally figured it out!” Twice congratulated. “Damnit, why’d you have to figure it out?” “I told you that forever ago!” Toga complained. “No, no, no, no,” Dabi said. “You said I was in love.” “You are,” Toga said flatly. Dabi was feeling kind of tipsy. “Whaat, no, I just have a crush.” “No, Dabi-kun,” Toga said. “You’re a bit beyond that.” It was kind of hard to focus on things, but Dabi thought about that. He was in love? What? Really? That couldn’t be right. He thought about the funny feeling in his chest when Hawks would pull him into a stupid dance and how it was the same one he got when he woke up with Hawks next to him. He thought about that weird happy glow everything seemed to have. That was love? Was that what love was? How would he be in love and not even realized? “I’m in love?” Dabi asked, distressed.  “Yes, Dabi-kun,” Toga said slowly, as if to a child.  Dabi scrunched up his face. His vision was getting swimmy. “How?”  “It’s a miracle,” Shigaraki called.  “I’m in love. With Hawks,” Dabi said out loud. It sounded funky to his ears. It sounded hinky. What the hell.   Dabi woke up, god knows how long later, with a pounding headache and an ache in his chest and he felt cold. And Hawks wasn’t there. 0/10, one star, would not recommend to a friend, will not be shopping here again. Where was he even? It felt like he was laying on a floor and he could hear murmuring voices. He groaned and stretched and was surprised to find a thin blanket thrown over him. Sitting up, he realized he was laying somewhere in the bar. On the ground. With a blanket over him. Hm.  His head protested when he stood up, be he ignored it; he’d had worse. He followed the sound of the voices to the back where a room was illuminated by yellow light that made his headache unbearable. He pressed on.  “... lead him to the bait, then Compress can do his thing. Then we can either let Dabi do the honors or Shigaraki--” “Do the honors for what?” Dabi asked, squinting. Immediately, everyone turned their papers over. Twice threw his body over the table to hide whatever plan they were making and Toga planted herself with her arms spread wide to block Dabi’s view. Unfortunately, all this was moot because on the oversized whiteboard behind the table, there was a sloppy, but still recognizable drawing of a stick figure Hawks with arrows pointing to another drawing of a box propped up with a stick with fried chicken under it. At the top of the board, in large block letters was: Operation KILL, MAIM, or OTHERWISE DESTROY HAWKS (✿ʘ‿ʘ)✂╰⋃╯ (Dabi was pretty sure Toga had drawn the emoticon.) Too late, Compress noticed the board and flipped it over. All this did, however, was reveal the betting pool on how long it would take Dabi to realize he was in love with Hawks recorded on the other side. He generously decided to ignore that (for now). “We’re, uh,” Spinner began. “Planning a surprise?” “You’re planning to kill-- excuse me, ‘kill, maim, or otherwise destroy’ Hawks,” Dabi deadpanned.  “Um...Surprise?” Twice offered.  “Happy birthday!” Toga put in.  Dabi snorted. “Nice try, today’s not my birthday.” “Spinner!” Toga shouted. “Mark November 27th off on the Days That are NOT Dabi-kun’s Birthday calendar!”  “Got it!” Spinner dutifully pulled out a small calendar and crossed out the date. “Only 292 more days of guessing until we get it.” Toga gasped. “Unless you were born on Leap Day!”  “No.” “Aw.” She pouted. “Spinner--” “On it!” “Does anyone want to tell me why you are plotting to kill Hawks--” “Or maim!” Spinner interrupted.  “Or otherwise destroy,” Compressed finished with alarming relish. “Yes, all that,” Dabi agreed. “Why?” “He broke your heart, we remove his parts,” Toga sing-songed. Twice nodded in agreement.  Spinner cleared his throat. “He’s a disgrace to heroism and Stain would want him dead.”  “I just think it would be fun.” Mr. Compress shrugged. Dabi pressed his fingers into his throbbing temples. “Okay, I can understand you four, but Kurogiri? Shigaraki? You don’t even care.”  Shigaraki casually turned the large stack of papers sitting in front of him to dust. “I don’t care. There’s no proof.” Kurogiri primly straightened his vest. “We agreed killing Hawks would be a wise strategic move.” “Yes, it’s strategic,” Shigaraki put in quickly. “Now that he’s not joining the League, he’s a threat to us. Plus, it boosts our reputation if we take out the Number 2 hero.”  Dabi supposed that was fair. “Okay.” “Okay?” Kurogiri repeated. “You’re on board?” Dabi shrugged. “Whoever’s plan is on the whiteboard will work.”  “Yes!” Toga cheered. “I told you!” “No way,” Spinner disagreed. “Really?” “Yeah, he’ll see unattended chicken and bird instincts will kick in. Once he’s in the dark from the box, he’ll think it’s night, and go to sleep,” Dabi explained.  “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not…” Compress muttered.  Dabi shrugged again. “Give it a shot. See how it works out for you.” “I think,” Kurogiri began. “That you are a biased source regarding Hawks.” Dabi snorted. “No shit.” “But Dabi-kun.” Toga tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t you wanna kill Hawks-kun for breaking your heart?” “He didn’t break shit,” Dabi insisted. “And no, not particularly. If you haven’t noticed, he sort of has our son.” “That’s why we’re going to kidnap Omie-chan after killing Hawks-kun!” Toga explained in a jovial voice. “I don’t want to be a single father!” Dabi protested. “We would help you raise Omelet, of course,” said Kurogiri.  “Oh, well, that changes everything.” Dabi rolled his eyes. “Don’t kill Hawks.” “But Dabi-kuuuuuuun,” whined Toga. “The sooner he’s dead, the sooner you can get over him!”  Dabi entertained, for a moment, the idea of killing Hawks. It would be super easy. Just get him with his pants down (literally or metaphorically) and he was a sitting duck. He could pull Hawks into a searing kiss and send them both up in flames. Dabi would survive of course, and Hawks would be fried chicken.  Now, normally, Dabi got at the very least some grim satisfaction from the idea of snuffing someone out, but when Hawks was the one going up in flames… It made his heart rate kick up. His stomach twisted and he was pretty sure it was not because of the hangover. Damn, he really must love Hawks if the idea of killing him got him this worked up. It happened when he imagined any of the other Leaguers killing Hawks too. It was frightening how much Hawks being alive was necessary for Dabi’s world to turn normally. Was this what love was? Not wanting someone to die gruesomely at your or your friends’ hands? Maybe. He also didn’t want Omelet to die. Dabi was beginning to sense a pattern.  He put his head in his hands. What was happening to him? He was experiencing emotions! And not just like one or two, he was experiencing like five entire emotions at once. This was unprecedented and his systems were not equipped for it. He wanted to turn his brain off and turn it back on again. Without saving his work, so he could go back to his original version.  “Dabi-kun?” Toga asked.  Dabi didn’t look up. The light was too bright, his head was full of too many emotions, and his chest was beginning to feel achy again.  He did glance up in surprise when he felt two slender arms wrap around him.  “It will be okay, Dabi-kun,” whispered Toga. She was hugging him. Toga was hugging Dabi.  Inconveniently, this added a new emotion to the fray in Dabi’s mind. But pleasantly, this new emotion muffled the others, like a blanket. He didn’t hug her back, but he stood still and let her hug him. He let her soothe away the sharpness of his feelings.  He didn’t want Toga to die, either, he realized. Did that mean he loved her?  Maybe, Dabi thought, I’ve loved a lot without noticing. The idea seemed kind of ridiculous that you could love without noticing, but then, maybe it was just hard to hear love whispering when hate yelled so loud.    Hawks was a mess. He was like post-breakup Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. His eyeliner was smudged hopelessly around his face, running down his cheeks in dark streams. He’d made his way through several tubs of ice cream in the past few days. He even finally ate that salted caramel ice cream that had appeared in his freezer at some point. He didn’t like salted caramel. He was pretty sure Dabi wouldn’t have gotten salted caramel ice cream. Where did it come from. Didn’t matter, it was gone now.  So were the last of the leftovers of Dabi’s cooking. It was pathetic how much that made him miss Dabi. There was nobody to go on food runs for him now. He finally gave in and texted Rumi when his craving for chocolate cake became overwhelming.    To: Bugs Bunny <3 Can you please bring me some chocolate cake   He didn’t want to text Rumi because he knew she would laugh at him for being this pathetic. And then she would be all “I told you so” over Dabi. Except that Hawks had been the one to kick him out… So technically she hadn’t been right about Dabi.    From: Bugs Bunny <3 What, is villain boo not available to get you food?   To: Bugs Bunny <3 No he’s not 💔   Rumi was more correct than she could know.   From: Bugs Bunny <3 Oh no bud I’ll be right over   Rumi appeared maybe twenty minutes later with an entire chocolate cake, more ice cream, and makeup wipes. She knew him so well.  As soon as he opened the door, she pulled him into a crushing hug. “Hey bud, you okay?” Hawks pressed his face into her shoulder. “No,” he said, muffled.  “Aw, hey,” she said. “Why don’t we break into the cake and you can tell me what happened.” And so, through a mouthful of chocolate cake, Hawks launched into his story: “So it was like 4am and he came back in from a walk and told me that I couldn’t be a v-- that I couldn’t be a hero anymore if I wanted to be a good dad to Omelet because he wanted him as far away from hero/villain society as possible, and I told him I couldn’t just stop being a hero and that if he wanted to limit Omelet’s exposure to the villain world, he should leave.” At least, that’s what he was trying to say. Through the cake, it came out much more like: “Shrrhit mlah or am anee aimahih frm a wah an tol meh ah I cuh buh v-- i cuh buh huh…”  Rumi nodded. “Yeah I’m not even gonna pretend I understood that. Care to repeat that sans the cake?” Hawks swallowed hard. Did he actually want to repeat what he just said? No. “Dabi wanted to run away together,” he said instead. Rumi’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Oh yeah? And you said no so he left?” Hawks grimaced. “No.” Rumi’s brow furrowed. “You said… yes?” “No,” Hawks groaned. “I said no and told him to get out.” “Mhm.” Rumi nodded slowly. “As much as I approve of that decision, I have to say, I’m not following your logic there.” “He wanted Omelet to be free from hero/villain society. I told him I couldn’t just stop being a hero, but he was welcome to stop being a villain.” “And then he left,” Rumi concluded.  “No.” Hawks hated recounting this. “He said he couldn’t just stop being a villain, so I told him if he wanted to limit Omelet’s exposure to villains, he should leave.” “And he took the out?” Rumi asked. “No…” Really, personally, Dabi hadn’t done anything wrong. “I threatened him with a feather and told him to leave.”  Rumi pursed her lips. “And you fought him off?” “No,” Hawks sighed. “He just left.” “Hm,” Rumi hummed. “I cannot overstate how glad I am that you finally kicked that nogoodnik out, but bud… you really liked him. Why?” Hawks’ lip quivered. He did really like Dabi. If he was being honest with himself, it was probably closer to love. In the moment, he would have never considered Dabi’s offer to run away together, but in the past few days, the idea made his chest ache with want. Just the two of them with Omelet, somewhere without heroes or villains. Without the Commission, without the League. He knew it would never work, but he wanted it so badly.   So why had he told Dabi to leave? He could never tell Rumi the truth, that he’d been distraught that he’d failed his mission. How would he be able to go back to the Commision with a baby and no intel from the League? He was serious about his duty and he took failures as a personal blow. He’d been able to defend his, ahem, fraternizing (like fraternizing really hard) with Dabi when it was for the mission. Even when his own feelings crept into the equation, they weren’t hurting his mission. Now, it all backfired, and it was his fault. No ‘if’s, ‘and’s, or ‘but’s about it; Hawks failed his mission and it was his own fault. He couldn’t blame anyone else. But the worst part was there was nobody he could talk to about it. Dabi, obviously, could never know Hawks was a double agent and Hawks couldn’t emphasize how important it was that he join the League without arousing suspicion. Nobody in the Commission knew about his relationship with Dabi. And Rumi, of course, couldn’t know about his mission.  So why had he threatened Dabi into leaving? No reason he could tell Rumi. “I hadn’t had my coffee yet,” Hawks said.  “Mhm.” Rumi was clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press. “And that’s why you haven’t texted him yet, begging him to come back to you could talk things over rationally. Oh! Speaking of which-- phone.” She held out her hand. “What?”  “Give me your phone,” she said. Hawks obliged. He couldn’t remember if he’d told Rumi his password, or if she’d just guessed it. Either was equally as likely, all his passwords were variations of ‘Endeavor.’ For example, his bank password was “EndeavorBooty69” and his email password was “DaddyEndeavor.” Not the most secure, but always very satisfying to enter and difficult to forget.  “There.” Rumi handed him his phone back. “What did you do?” He asked. “Well, you know the first rule of breakups,” she said. “Especially breakups with villains: don’t text your ex.” Hawks felt the blood drain out of his face. “Did you…” Rumi nodded. “I deleted his number.”  Well now he had really failed his mission! There was no way of getting Dabi back. He wasn’t sure he’d planned to text Dabi but now that he couldn’t he felt another wave of sadness.  “Rumi…” Hawks’ voice was embarrassingly choked up.  She rolled her eyes. “Relax, he’s not blocked or anything. This will just keep you from texting first.” He supposed that was true, but he also doubted Dabi would text first. What reason did he have? It wasn’t like they were meeting for League stuff anymore. Maybe he would text about Omelet…? Hawks dropped his head into his hands. “I’m so stupid.” “Well, I mean, yes,” Rumi agreed. “But… it’s not your fault, bud. Feelings do what they want. The heart wants what the heart wants, even if that’s a half-burnt villain.”  And want a half-burnt villain his heart did.    Rumi checked in and stayed over several times over the next week. Hawks was grateful for her coming and going because otherwise he was sure he would lose track of the days. His curtains were drawn and he spent most of his time watching bad rom-coms and crying into his new stock of ice cream. He kept watching Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again for inspiration. Donna Sheridan was one strong lady and she was able to deal with heartbreak and raise her baby all by herself. He had to be strong, for Donna. Though, I’ve Been Waiting for You made him sob violently and hug Omelet to himself every time. Why couldn’t his life be a jukebox musical? He wanted Dabi to come back and sing S.O.S. by ABBA to him.   “Rumi,” Hawks said one afternoon. “I have an idea. I should find the League headquarters and stand outside with a boombox playing Careless Whisper.” “Hawks, that’s like the 80’s version of texting your ex. And I think the League would kill you for making them listen to Wham!. And do you even own a boombox?” Hawks pouted. “I have money, I could buy a boombox.” Rumi laughed. “Why bother with the boombox? Just serenade him yourself.” “Rumi, you’re a genius!” Hawks stood. Rumi pulled him back down. “Don’t you dare.” Hawks threw his head back. “I’M NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN! GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM!” That’s as far as he got before Rumi slapped her hand over his mouth. Unfortunately, Rumi was still working, and duty called.  “It’s a huge bust with some briefing beforehand, so it’s gonna be a couple of days before I can check on you again. You gonna be good?” Rumi was a blessing that Hawks didn’t deserve.  He shot her a thumbs up. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be dandy! Swell, even.”  She ruffled his hair. “I don’t believe you for a second, but alright. I won’t have my phone on me most of the time, so if you’re having issues, you’re gonna have to rely on someone else for once.” “Okay!” He lied. There was no way he was going to anyone else for help. “You’re stupid. Love ya.” She punched him lightly in the arm before leaving his apartment.  Left alone, Hawks flopped into his nest next to Omelet.  “Oh, Omelet,” Hawks sighed dramatically. “It’s just me and you. I wish we could be frolicing around a Greek island, singing ABBA, but alas…” Omelet was getting pretty big. He’d candled him the day he’d kicked Dabi out and it looked like he was taking up pretty much the entire egg. It’s been something like…10ish weeks since he’d laid Omelet. That would be nearly the first trimester in a human pregnancy, but at this point, Hawks was pretty sure Omelet was not growing at the rate of a normal human fetus. He was moving around a squirming which was beyond cool to feel through the egg. At this point, Hawks was nearly certain that Omelet could hear. It was comforting to know that there was someone to listen to him. (Plus, talking to your baby helped them learn and Hawks wanted his baby to be as smart as possible. He needed all the help he could get, since he had Dabi’s genes.) “What am I gonna name you?” Hawks pondered. “It’s just up to me now. I could name you anything I wanted. There’s nobody to disagree with me.” He said it to cheer himself up, but it just made him feel lonely. “I could name you Enji, if I wanted. How mad do you think Endeavor would be? How mad do you think Dabi would be? He’d probably kill me. Either way, I would die a fiery death.”  He found he actually really didn’t want Omelet to be named Enji. For one thing, it didn’t suit him, and two, Hawks found himself shockingly uninterested in upsetting Dabi. “I’m giving you my surname.” Hawks knew that one for sure. He had an awesome surname. “So I don’t think I should name you after myself… Oh! I know! You can have the name I really wanted when I was a kid. ‘Keigo’ seems like an old man's name, so I always thought it would be cool to be called ‘Sora.’ I had a crush on the character from Kingdom Hearts. I think it was the capris. Or maybe his eyes… Anyway, what do you think? Sora Takami?” It had a nice ring to it! “I think it’s good! I just… wish I had another input.” His fingers itched to text Dabi, but he knew his number wasn’t there. Maybe it was good that Rumi deleted it. “Sora,” he tried out. “Sora. Maybe nothing feels right because you’re just Omelet to me. Whatta ya say? Omelet Takami?” He rolled Omelet into his lap. “Maybe I just gotta wait until I can see you to know what suits you. I can’t wait to meet you, ya know.” Omelet must have been asleep because the egg didn’t wiggle in his grip as it often did nowadays. Hawks drew a hand gently across the surface of his egg. His baby was in there. Even after all this time, it was mind-boggling to think about the fact that he had a baby. Hawks froze. His heart stopped. Time itself stopped.  With a shaky hand, he ran his fingers back over Omelet’s shell and yep, there was no mistaking it: Omelet was cracked.

The Council chambers only consisted of three members the next morning. The sun trickled in cheerfully from the glass windows, but it did nothing to lighten the mood. Masters Yoda, Windu, and Plo Koon were perched in their chairs, an uncomfortable silence drifting around them. They had considered summoning Qui-Gon to join them, but in the end, the Grandmaster decided against it. These were private matters consisting of Padawan Kenobi, and his master had no business being here—especially after the recent rift between them. Mace Windu let out a long sigh, not fully having woken up yet. Brown eyes shifting from the sunrise outside, they focused on Yoda who was drawing invisible circles with his wooden cane on the floor. Feeling a bit of impatience beginning to bubble inside him, the Korun master then cleared his throat, resulting in the green troll to turn his way. “It’d be best if we got started, Master,” he suggested, then adding lightly, “I’m about to fall asleep in my chair.” Yoda gave the smallest of smiles before nodding in agreement. “Much to discuss, we have.” “With all due respect, Master,” Plo Koon began, “why didn’t we summon Master Jinn? Surely he should be present if we are to speak of his padawan.” The Grandmaster hummed in disapproval. “Clouded, Qui-Gon’s mind is,” he stated. “Alone, we must discuss this matter.” The Kel Dor nodded respectfully, but Mace could sense his uneasiness. It was evident that Yoda had caught onto it as well but chose not to mention it. When golden eyes shifted to the Korun master, the green troll then cleared his own throat and began. “Release Obi-Wan from his punishment, we will.” “It is only fair,” Plo Koon agreed. “You did inform us that Vokara Che stated that the virus was at fault for changing his behavior.” “And we did discuss how strange and out of character it was for Obi-Wan to be acting this way after the debriefing the other night,” Mace admitted quietly, feeling a bit shameful. Then, with a sigh, he added, “We should have known better.” “Known better, Qui-Gon should have.” Yoda’s tone didn’t own a hint of regret as he spoke. “Obi-Wan’s master, he is. Know his Padawan the most, he should.” “I must confess that I still feel guilty, Master,” Plo Koon revealed, folding his hands in his lap. Had Mace been able to see through the mask the Kel Dor wore, he would expect the Jedi’s features to be twisted in regret. “Obi-Wan was so very hurt and shocked after receiving his punishment. There was one moment where I was certain he looked as if he were about to collapse.” “I noticed it, too,” Mace told him assuringly. “But I just assumed it was him trying to process the news.” Then, gaze moving over to Yoda, he asked, “Did you sense anything off during that moment, Master?” The green troll nodded in confirmation. “Sensed, I did, that something was not right. But aware that it was an illness, I was not.” “Then why didn’t you speak with Obi-Wan, or even Qui-Gon?” Mace asked, the words coming out of his mouth without fully processing them. “You hoped that Qui-Gon would discuss it with him, didn’t you?” Plo Koon answered, if a bit hesitant. “That Obi-Wan would feel comfortable enough opening up to him.” Another nod from the Grandmaster caused Mace to give a long sigh. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, frustration surging through his veins. “For Force’s sake, why does Qui-Gon have to be so difficult? When will he finally get over Xanatos and simply move on?” “Attached, Qui-Gon was to his former padawan,” Yoda replied. “Fearful of loving Obi-Wan, he is.” “You would have thought he’d learn that lesson after Xanatos,” Mace grumbled grumpily. “This is exactly why Jedi are forbidden from having attachments. Look what happened to him after his former Padawan’s fall—he was so angry. It took him over a year to fully warm up to Obi-Wan. The poor boy doesn’t deserve that.” “I agree,” Plo Koon said. “Without some sort of connection, a master and Padawan are not a team. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s first mission was a difficult one, if I recall correctly?” “It was,” Mace confirmed. “Hardly any communication was held, and because of it, Qui-Gon was sure that Obi-Wan had been blown to smithereens in an explosion, only for the boy to surface hours later, completely unharmed.” He then resisted the urge to snort, finding the story somewhat amusing. The Jinn/Kenobi team was most definitely interesting. Far more…unique than any other master and Padawan duo, he knew for sure. “But they have most definitely grown since that time,” Plo Koon said confidently, bringing the Korun master back to the present. “Force, that’s why they are the team we’re always assigning on missions. There is never any doubt of them getting the job done.” “True, this is,” Yoda said, his tone contemplative. “Drift apart, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan will if they do not reconcile. Allow this to happen, we cannot.” “Understood,” Mace replied with a dip of his head. “What do you propose we do, Master?” “Speak with Qui-Gon, we will,” the green troll answered. “Worried for Obi-Wan’s clouded judgement, we were, but concerned for his own master’s, we should have been. Greatly unbalanced and in need of help, Qui-Gon is.” “When we summon him will the session consist of the entire Council?” Plo Koon questioned. “No,” Mace informed him quickly, the answer being his choice as the Master of the Order. “Only the three of us and Qui-Gon will be present. We will keep the degree of the situation as quiet as possible.” Plo Koon gave a wary sigh but nodded. Then, gaze flicking down the Yoda studying the imprints on his cane, the Kel Dor asked, “I must admit while I am honored to have been summoned here, I can’t help but feel a bit confused. Is there anything specific you’d like me to do in terms of this session?” “Compassionate, you are,” Yoda told him. “In much need of your services, we are. Possibly speak with Obi-Wan and even Qui-Gon, you could.” “About?” “Qui-Gon may be one of my closest friends, but it’s rare when he actually listens to me,” Mace revealed with a sigh. “When we summon him here, you can be the calm, gentle voice of compassion. We all know what eventually happens when we push Qui-Gon’s buttons. Perhaps you will be the one to finally get him to see reason.” “I understand,” Plo Koon said. “When shall we summon him?” “If I can recall correctly, Obi-Wan is being placed on bed rest in his quarters as of today,” Mace replied, only somewhat hiding the relief in his tone. “Master Che expected him to at least spend a few more days at the Halls of Healing, but he’s recovering faster than expected. Let’s just give him a while to settle himself, and then we can have our session. How does tomorrow sound?” He turned to Yoda for approval, who simply hummed in agreement. “It’s settled, then.”      When Bant strided in her patient’s quarters balancing a warm tray of food, she smiled happily at the sight of Obi-Wan sitting up in bed, gaze focused on a small sketchbook he was currently doodling in. When he took notice of the Mon Calamari’s arrival, he quickly closed it and set it off to the side, much to her disappointment yet amusement.    “What’cha hiding there, Obi?” She teased. “Nothing,” he replied, his tone casual. “Love letters?” “Just shut up,” the boy snapped, hurling a pillow her way as she ducked with a squawk of laughter. When she resurfaced a short moment later, hands placed up in mockery surrender, Obi-Wan shook his head disapprovingly, but the Mon Calamari could see the ends of his lips curling up in a slight smirk. “You’re becoming just as bad as Reeft, Bant. We’re supposed to be on the same side, aren’t we?” “Of course,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t tease you when we’re alone, does it?” Obi-Wan smiled and gave a small shrug. “Well, if you must know, I was simply sketching,” he admitted quietly. Gawking at him, Bant stared in disbelief. “You draw?” She questioned incredulously. “Why didn’t I know that?” Another unfazed shrug. “I don’t do it very often. Just when I have time; normally here in my quarters.” Bant made her way over to the bed, and Obi-Wan scooted over, allowing her some room next to him. Webbed hands reaching for the sketchbook, she flipped it open to a random page and gasped at the sight.  “This is amazing!” She breathed. A beautiful image of a lightsaber simply sketched with a pencil covered the page. The hilt was shaded darkly, its buttons emphasized even in the sole, grey color. Its blade shone brightly in the center, the shaded light fading as it neared the edges. The letters OBK sat neatly in the corner, the handwriting graceful and elegant, so much that it seemed to dance across the paper.  “Seriously, why didn’t I know about this?” Bant demanded, beginning to flip to another page, only for the sketchbook to be snatched away by Obi-Wan and slammed shut as he tucked it under the covers. “Hey!” “It’s not that big of a deal, Bant,” he muttered lamely. “But it is,” she insisted. “Just wait until Garen and Reeft and Quinlan see this!” When she had discovered Obi-Wan’s secret hobby, she hadn’t expected his sketches to be terrible, just…not to be so incredible. Shaking her head in disbelief, the Mon Calamari realized she was learning new things about her best friend everyday; things he wanted to keep hidden, for some reason. “Oh, Force no,” Obi-Wan said, blue-grey eyes wide. “You’re not telling them anything.” “Why not?” “Just because!” The boy exclaimed dramatically. “I don’t want them knowing about it!” Bant sighed and nodded her head in defeat, suppressing the urge to both laugh and roll her eyes simultaneously. Obi-Wan was once again being unreasonable, but at the same time, it endeared her to see his usually-reserved and calm persona spark to life, a fiery and witty one taking its place. The occurrences were rare as he had gotten older, but witnessing them never became tiresome. It reminded the Mon Calamari that as Jedi-like that her best friend was, the real Obi-Wan would still sometimes make his way to the surface.  “They’re our best friends!” She protested. “And they can’t know about your secret talent?” “Secret hobby,” Obi-Wan corrected delicately. “Talent.” “Hobby.” “Talent.” “Hobby. And we’re ending this here, because I don’t feel like talking about it anymore.” “Oh, whatever.” This time, Bant did roll her eyes. Then, gaze drifting to the tray of food sitting in her lap, she gestured toward it expectantly. “You’re going to start losing weight if you don’t eat something.” Obi-Wan grimaced at the sight of the food and shook his head. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it down. My stomach is still very weak at the moment.” An exasperated sigh slipped past his lips as he revealed this. Bant frowned. “Well, I guess you can eat later,” she muttered in disappointment. Then, with a long exhale of her own, she began what would become her daily-interrogation. “How are you feeling as of now?” “Fine.” “Quit being stupid and just be honest with me, Kenobi,” Bant snapped, her patience already dangerously hovering over the edge. “Or else I’m calling Master Che.” Inwardly celebrating her victory as Obi-Wan visibly deflated at the threat, adoration welled up inside of her when her patient seemed to just simply let go; his head lazily leaning back against the headboard as his shoulders slumped forward, easily giving up the fight to remain strong and poised.  “Well, if I’m being honest: I can’t remember the last time I was this exhausted,” the boy admitted, his mouth curling into a crooked smile. His calm, sea green eyes were filled with fatigue and slightly drooped, much to Bant’s amusement. “It’s perfectly normal, Obi,” she assured him gently, moving the food tray to the nightstand beside the bed. “You may be on the mend, but the virus still has yet to be completely flushed from your system. We’re lucky it only attacked your stomach, not your lungs.” “I suppose, but it’s still painful.”  “Of that I have no doubt,” Bant said. “But maybe, all you need is a little visit to cheer you up.” Obi-Wan cocked a ginger eyebrow. “Visitors?” He repeated skeptically. Chuckling at his confusion, the Mon Calamari rolled off the bed and approached the door, smile then turning into a full-blown grin when the loud, outgoing presences of Garen, Reeft, and Quinlan filled the quarters almost instantly. “Finally, Bant!” Garen exclaimed. “I thought you’d never let us in!” Then, brown eyes darting to the boy tucked in bed, he let out an excited shout. “Obi-Wan!” He burst, rushing over, Quinlan and Reeft right on his heels. “You’re awake!”    “You were out for a long time, Kenobi,” Quinlan quipped, arms tightly crossing over his chest. “Glad to see you’ve finally returned to the land of the living.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the remark, but Bant could see that he also sensed the fondness flickering in Quinlan’s features. “I could hear you all when you came to visit,” he told them. “I tried to open my eyes and respond, but…I just couldn’t.” “Maybe that was a good thing,” Reeft said with a smirk. “It definitely saved us from your sarcasm and dry-wit.” Obi-Wan’s sea green eyes playfully narrowed, and he lifted his hand, calling out to the Force as the pillow beside him then began to levitate into the air, only for Bant to swat his arm back to his side with a glare. The boy gave her an innocent look as the pillow limply dropped back to the bed.  “There’ll be none of that,” she said sternly. “You need to rest, Obi-Wan, and that strictly prohibits any use of the Force until you’re completely recovered.” “Yeah, Obi-Wan, so stop it,” Reeft mocked, turning his voice high-pitched. “You need to shut up too,” Bant told him, grinning when the Dresselian erupted into laughter. To her delight, Garen and Quinlan joined in as well. She turned to Obi-Wan, who only smiled slightly, seemingly still annoyed with the new rules. “What’s wrong, Obi?” “I hate just sitting here,” the boy grumbled, closing his eyes in frustration. “All I want to do is jump out of bed and run forty laps around the Temple.” “I don’t think your body has quite caught up with your mind,” Bant replied, chuckling in amusement.  “You’ll be out of here soon enough, don’t worry.” Garen said assuringly. “Hey, maybe when you are we can all spend some time together and do something. You’re always so busy.” “Yeah, and it’s all Master Jinn’s fault,” Reeft rolled his eyes while stating this, Quinlan then mirroring the gesture in agreement. “He’s always dragging you on missions you don’t have time for.” “Don’t have time for?” Bant echoed incredulously, grey eyes wide in skepticism. “For Force’s sake, Reeft, he’s a Jedi! Going on missions is our occupation, duh!” She turned to Garen, who backed her up with a firm nod. “That’s true, but even you complain that you feel like Obi-Wan’s never here!” Reeft shot back. “He and Master Jinn are such a good team they’re being sent out on assignments left and right. That isn’t fair to them—especially Obi-Wan.” “We’re still kids,” Quinlan added. “And we deserve a break once in a while.” “I suppose you’re right,” Bant murmured, realizing that she was indeed mistaken. It was just that the Jinn/Kenobi team was so talented; when they were given their assignments, there wasn’t an ounce of doubt in the Force that made anyone fear they wouldn’t complete their missions. This played a large role in why they were absent from the Temple so often, much to the Mon Calamari’s frustration and disappointment.  Obi-Wan was only seventeen. A child. And as much as the overachiever he annoyingly was, even he deserved time for resting. Bant was fully aware that during the rare occasions when the Jinn/Kenobi team was present in the Temple, Qui-Gon usually spent his time arguing with the Council, catching up with Mace Windu—who apparently, much to Bant’s surprise, was supposed to be his best friend—and taking naps to conserve his energy. And when he wasn’t doing either of those, he liked to spend time with Obi-Wan, which normally consisted of a spar or a night out into the city.  And Obi-Wan? When he wasn’t with his master, he could typically be found desperately trying to catch up on his studies while being absent, meditating in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, or spending time with his friends. As reserved as he was on a normal basis, Bant had found out rather quickly that he transformed into an entirely different human when around others he was comfortable with. His cheerfulness, mischievousness, dry sense of humor, and witty tongue were all qualities that she had instantly loved upon first meeting him all those years ago.  A wistful smile creeped up the Mon Calamari’s face at the recollection; when had time flown by so quickly? “I’ve gotten used to it,” Obi-Wan said, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to him as he spoke and returned the warm smile he gave her, but she noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you all.” “We should all do something once you’ve recovered,” Garen suggested again. “Wouldn’t that be fun?” “Like what?” Bant asked. Garen ran a hand through his brown hair thoughtfully as he racked his mind for an answer, but Reeft already seemed to have one prepared. “You know what will be fun?” He asked gleefully, eyes sparkling humorously. “When we finally turn twenty-one and can go and have our first drink.” Bant snorted, letting her amusement trickle into the Force. “Dream on buddy,” she told him. “We got at least another four years until that can happen.” “That doesn’t mean we can’t be excited for it.” Quinlan grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Now, what do you think we’d all be like drunk?” “Quinlan!” Bant gasped, swatting his arm as her eyes bulged at her friend's laughter. “That is not the point of drinking!” “Well, of course you’d say that,” Reeft smirked. “Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.” “I think a drunk Bant would be a fun Bant,” Garen snickered, holding one fist over his mouth to clearly contain his laughter. “She’d be an absolute daredevil.” “I agree,” Reeft concurred. “Stop it!” The Mon Calamari exclaimed, slugging the Dresselian in the shoulder, ignoring his squawk of surprise. “A drunk Quinlan and Reeft would somehow end up getting us all killed,” Garen announced, his lips pulling up into a bright smile. “Their idiocy would probably just make someone murder them out of annoyance.” Bant rolled her eyes prepared to protest, but she stopped herself just in time, realizing that Garen’s statement held nothing but the truth. “Well, if I’m being honest, that actually sounds like it would be pretty accurate,” she confessed. “Hey!” Quinlan and Reeft said simultaneously, horribly offended. “A drunk Garen would be hilarious,” Bant said, grinning from ear to ear as she made eye contact with the humanoid staring expectantly at her. “He’d be crying at his own jokes no matter how horribly they truly are.” “I can’t really disagree with that,” Garen said with a shrug. The foursome erupted into laughter, only for it to smooth out in silence a few moments later when they realized one person wasn’t joining in. Bant looked at Obi-Wan worriedly, his smile expertly giving off the appearance of amusement, but the fatigue lingering in his body was present as he tiredly rubbed at his eyes, trying to rid the sleepiness from them. Don’t worry, she reprimanded herself. Master Che informed me that this was normal. Just give him time. Clearly sensing the uneasiness in the room, Reeft loudly cleared his throat, quickly earning the attention of the four other Padawans. Eyes glinting jokingly, the Dresselian turned to face Obi-Wan, his smirk almost devilish, and asked, “What do you guys think Obi-Wan would be like drunk?” “Ha!” Garen snorted. “I’d pay to see that.” “So would I,” Quinlan agreed wholeheartedly. “Now, that would be a sight.” “Same here,” Bant laughed, shaking her head in disbelief at the mere thought of it. “Obi-Wan here is the last one out of all of us that I’d expect to get drunk.” “No kidding,” Quinlan cut in. “I doubt he would. Not as the Padawan of Master Jinn he wouldn’t, at least. Am I right?” He turned to Obi-Wan for confirmation. “I mean, doesn’t he not even drink alcohol because of his...I don’t know—connection to the living Force?” ”Oh, you know that isn’t true,” Bant told him. “I’ve been around Qui-Gon during the rare occasions when he drinks, but he rarely passes the point of tipsy,” the boy answered with a small smile. “I just assume that he is careful around me since I’m underage.” “Well, when we take you out for your twenty-first, you’d better warn him that it’ll be one heck of a night,” Reeft said energetically. “Because I doubt he’ll barely recognize you when you come home from the cantina.” “And…that discussion is now over,” Bant said dismissively before the topic could spiral out of control. At Obi-Wan’s somewhat relieved smile, she placed a hand on his shoulder in a friendly-manner. “Can I get you anything? Like water or tea?”      “I’ll be fine,” the boy assured her gratefully. “Oh, come on, Kenobi,” Quinlan groaned, lifting his hands up dramatically. “Do you always have to be so independent?” “I just said that I was fine,” Obi-Wan snapped, nearly startling his four friends as they stared at him with wide eyes. “Why would I ask for something else when I have everything I need?” The room went quiet as the boy sent Quinlan a glare, who only stared at him in bewilderment in response. Bant felt her chest tighten at the heated exchange. These two were constantly getting mixed up in disagreements, but…they usually weren’t so sincere.  Obi-Wan seemed to realize it the exact moment the Mon Calamari did, his expression twisting into one of horror as he slightly curled up into himself. Bant recognized it as an action of guilt, as if the boy was trying to protect the ones around him from himself, before he could do more damage. “Force,” he breathed, blue-grey eyes as wide as saucers. “I don’t know what came over me…Quinlan, I’m so sorry—“ “It’s the virus, Obi,” Bant informed him. “Master Che claimed that it has the potential to alter one’s personality if severe enough. You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.” That still didn’t stop the boy from stubbornly uttering out an apology to Quinlan who only waved it off dismissively with a crooked smile. Despite the clear guilt that was nearly transparent in Obi-Wan’s features, Quinlan didn’t seem even the slightest bit bothered by the cold exchange anymore, his cheerful demeanor rapidly making its way back to the surface. “It’s all good, buddy,” he assured Obi-Wan, the grin never leaving his face. “We all know that you’re not yourself, so just cut yourself some slack, alright?” The boy once again gave a half-hearted smile, but for the second time that day, it failed from reaching his eyes, instead, making it fall flat. Bant frowned, returning to the position she had taken earlier by Obi-Wan’s side, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” She asked him softly, sending him tendrils of calmness and peace through the Force. “You know I can read you like a book, Obi-Wan.” Her friend’s gaze drifted down to his hands neatly folded in his lap. He hesitated for a long moment, as if the words he was dying to say were struggling to escape past his lips. “Where…is Master Jinn?” He finally asked, voice almost a whisper. Bant blinked, taken aback by the question. She hadn’t expected this. “U-um,” she began shakily. Why was she stuttering so much? “I believe he is with Masters Yoda and Windu at the moment, attempting a meditation. Why?” She couldn’t help but add. Obi-Wan was silent for another agonizingly, long moment. Then, with a slow exhale, he revealed, “I haven’t seen him since my collapse.” Exchanging looks of disbelief with the three Padawans in the room, Bant cringed when Reeft was unable to contain his no-filter-mouth as he blurted, “What does that even mean? You both live here, don’t you? Isn’t Qui-Gon’s room…right next door?” After earning a hard glare from the Mon Calamari due to Obi-Wan’s slightly wounded look, the Dresselian quickly piped down and had the grace to look somewhat sheepish. “I mean...has something happened between the two of you?” “I’d really not rather discuss it,” Obi-Wan mumbled, fingers anxiously digging into the bed covers. Bant sensed that Reeft was about to open his mouth to offer a protest, but she cut him off with a brief wave of her hand. “Master Jinn has barely left your side, Obi. He’s always watching over you when you sleep but never has the heart to wake and disturb you from your rest. In fact, I think the very reason he is with Masters Yoda and Windu is to attempt a meditation that will calm his nerves, because he’s worried sick about you.” “It’s true,” Garen chimed in. “I saw him in the corridors a few hours ago. He looked like a wreck.” Obi-Wan snorted in amusement at this, but the same dull gleam never left his eyes. Bant’s frown deepened, slightly tightening her hold on the boy’s shoulder. “I just want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, none of us will hesitate to help you,” she said softly, gesturing to the other Padawans sitting on the edges of the bed. “We will always be here for you, Obi.” “Yeah, don’t doubt that for even a second,” Reeft said, a warm smile creeping up his features, causing Bant’s heart to soften as she sent him a wave of gratefulness through the Force. Usually the Dresselian was so playful and wild, but the moments he was truly sincere were the times the Mon Calamari lived for. Obi-Wan’s expression was an indication of his own surprise yet thankfulness. Bant watched as his blue-grey eyes naturally shifted to their standard, calm sea green, and she smiled brightly at the sight. On a normal basis, she would have most definitely pushed the boy more on admitting to what was wrong, but she knew—and wasn’t even a healer—that stress did nothing good to patients on their journey to recovery. In fact, it could even worsen their condition, and there was no way she was allowing that to happen. Not when she’d already come so close to losing Obi-Wan a few days earlier. To her relief, the tension in the room ceased a few short moments later, and before she knew it, the five Padawans were struck in casual conversation, chattering so lively the Mon Calamari could almost pretend to forget that they hadn’t had a gathering like this in months; their duty as Jedi kept them torn apart, sometimes even millions of light years way across the galaxy as they ventured on mission after mission, never seeming to have the time to stop.  Especially Obi-Wan. Suddenly to her shock, the boy turned toward her in mid-conversation, head slightly tilting to the side, intrigued. It was almost as if he could hear the thoughts swirling around her mind. Alarmed, Bant made a quick check to see if her shields were up, and with a sigh she came to the conclusion that they were. Still, the expression Obi-Wan had given her made her feel uneasy, as if he could still sense what she was currently feeling. Not wanting the boy to become concerned for her, she sent him a warm, calming wave of peace through the Force, hopeful it would distract him. His expression instantly softened at the sent tendril and he shot her a small, gentle but content smile that made her heart melt. To see Obi-Wan like this—so calm and momentarily at peace—made her feel like she was soaring. He was always so guarded and reserved—the image of the ‘perfect Padawam’ that other masters longed to have under their tutelage—and she couldn’t deny that it broke her heart. Moments like now, where he was vulnerable and relaxed as he made jokes and laughed loudly at ones that were told to him were times where Bant was certain that this was Obi-Wan Kenobi; a boy whose heart was flooded with compassion, gentleness, and strength. A boy whose sarcasm and dry-wit made others instantly drawn to him like a magnet. And a boy who—as loved as he already was, even if he didn’t realize it—craved affection and tenderness from the man who he called master and worked so hard to earn it, yet…Master Jinn hadn’t given it to him.  It was clear that Qui-Gon indeed did care for Obi-Wan very much, but he was afraid to show it. And sometimes Bant knew that if she had hair atop her head, she would have been tempted to pull it out in frustration. Was it so hard for Qui-Gon to be affectionate with his Padawan? For Force’s sake, breaking the rules was one of his favorite pastimes. Realizing that she wasn’t even a part of the discussion being held, Bant tore her mind away from her scattered thoughts for the second time that day and focused on the present. Quinlan and Reeft were currently arguing over who held the prize for the loudest belch while Garen and Obi-Wan watched with both great interest and disdain. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this. Why did Quinlan and Reeft have to be so immature? “You know it’s me,” Quinlan stated, then turning to Garen, he asked, “right?” “Don’t answer him, Garen,” Reeft cut in, eyes narrowed. “Tell him it’s me.” “Really, guys?” Bant sighed loudly. “Do you have to be so—“ “Quiet, Bant!” Reeft exclaimed. “We’re having a discussion here!” And that was how it continued for the next hour. The Mon Calamari quickly took notice that Obi-Wan was the quietest of the bunch, only butting in the conversation to offer the usual quip or remark, but she didn’t worry herself over it. He was still recovering, and as long as the virus lived on in his system, he wouldn’t be morphing back into his normal-self until he was rid of it. Still, it excited her that he truly seemed to be enjoying himself, the same bright smile—as weary as it looked—never leaving his lips. Bant didn’t seem to be the only one who observed that Obi-Wan was growing tired. After a long while, the conversation died down to quiet murmurs. Reeft was just nearing the end of his story on how he had reconstructed his lightsaber after losing it on his last mission when Bant suddenly felt a weight settle on her shoulder with a little thud. Turning her head to look down, the Mon Calamari’s grey eyes instantly softened at the sight of Obi-Wan slumbering against her shoulder, eyes closed and face slack and relaxed in sleep. Bant’s gaze then flitted up to meet Garen, Quinlan, and Reeft’s before giving them a sheepish smile. “And…he’s out,” Garen laughed quietly, but the Mon Calamari could hear the fondness lingering in his voice as he spoke. “I honestly wondered how long it would take.” Reeft shook his head in amusement, but just like Garen, the affection in his eyes was transparent. “He was awake for a long time.” “Looks like you’ve become a pillow, Bant.” Quinlan gave that ever-famous smirk of his, dark brown eyes sparkling. “How does it feel?” Rolling her eyes at this question, and choosing to ignore it, the Mon Calamari sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Well, I’m just glad he was relaxed enough to drift off. He must have been more tired than he was letting up on.” “Sleepy-Wan,” Reeft blurted, causing the four padawans to erupt into quiet giggles while being careful not to wake the boy.  “That’s definitely my new nickname for him now,” Quinlan stated slyly. “He’s gonna kill you,” Garen laughed. “Hey, it’s better than what Bruck Chun used to call him.” “That’s true,” Bant agreed, releasing an annoyed sigh at this. “Oafy-Wan wasn’t exactly one of his favorites, was it?” “I honestly thought that one was hilarious too,” Quinlan admitted, quickly earning a death-stare from the Mon Calamari. “What? It was funny!” “I’ve got a better one.” Reeft crossed his arms proudly, eyes flashing. “Baby-Wan.” “Baby-Wan?” Bant echoed incredulously.  “You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed how young he looks when asleep!” Reeft exclaimed, voice then nearing a whisper when he realized he was coming across as too loud after the numerous wary looks cast his way. Then, a sly smirk creeping back up his lips, he said, “It’s perfect.”      Cautiously tilting her head back down to examine the sleeping boy at her shoulder, Bant came to the conclusion only moments later that the Dresselian was indeed correct; in his slumber, Obi-Wan appeared so…youthful. It was a bit strange to see him so exposed and unguarded; it made him look quite boyish, in fact. She smiled at the sight. It was no secret that Obi-Wan was very attractive, and his vulnerability only seemed to make him more so, if that was even possible.  Bant was certain that Obi-Wan would keep his youthful features for most likely the rest of his days, much to her amusement and his frustration. He swore to her that when he was finally knighted, he would grow a beard, and she had laughed, claiming he would still give off the appearance of a young boy no matter how much facial hair he had, and her statement only seemed to make him more irritated. “It really is,” the Mon Calamari murmured without realizing, her soft smile deepening.  “Should we go?” Garen asked, his eyes sharing the same affection as Bant’s. “We don’t want to disturb him.” “That would probably be for the best,” she replied, voice almost a whisper. “I’ll just watch over him until he wakes up.” “Sounds good.” Reeft rose to his feet and Quinlan followed as they made their way to the door. They shot Bant fond smiles at the innocent sight before them, faces lighting up in adoration. “We’ll come back to visit tomorrow.” “Take care of him, Bant, okay?” Garen gave the Mon Calamari a friendly nod before trailing after his friends, the concern inside him both evident in his features and the Force. Then, lightly adding, “We want him alive before he hits adulthood, right?” Bant chuckled in response, shaking her head in mock-irritation. “I will.” Then, before she knew it, they were gone, leaving her alone to watch the sunset through the large set of bay windows. When the sky finally dimmed, and the moon appeared, she reached for her datapad lying on the nightstand, careful to keep her movements gentle so she wouldn’t wake the sleeping boy leaning against her. Determined to finish some of her homework, Bant focused on her studies for a long hour before she could feel her eyes growing strained. Pushing the datapad away miserably, she rubbed her face tiredly before turning down to look at Obi-Wan, who was still deep in his slumber.  “Planning on waking up anytime soon, sleepyhead?” She asked teasingly. As expected, the boy didn’t reply, but Bant didn’t mind much. As uncomfortable as she was—sitting upright against the headboard wasn’t very soothing to her aching back—she didn’t have the heart to wake Obi-Wan. Seeing him resting and so at peace made her…well…it just rarely ever happened. She wasn’t going to be the one to ruin his time of blessed oblivion. Some more time passed until the door opened to reveal a weary Master Jinn, who looked very drained and stressed. Bant was already much familiar with his pull to the living Force, thus, he didn’t care as much as to what his appearance looked like, but now, he looked downright disheveled. His long, brown, chestnut-colored hair was tangled and spewed in all directions, his half-bun even having the nerve to appear droopy, which almost frankly never happened. His light complexion had paled even more, emphasizing the dark bags burrowed under his tired, deep blue eyes.  The Mon Calamari did everything in her power to hold back her surprise, only allowing a quick blink to give her away. This sight was—if she was being honest with herself—very, very concerning, especially if it was coming from the ‘maverick Jedi’ himself.  Bant almost leapt to her feet to give a bow in respect but caught herself just in time, remembering the life form peacefully resting against her and cringed at the thought of the poor boy being jerked harshly into wakefulness at her panicked movements. Deciding on a polite nod as a substitute, Bant hoped it was enough to please the Jedi Master. However, Qui-Gon didn’t even seem to acknowledge her presence, focusing instantly on Obi-Wan, his large frown deepening even more at the realization. Only then did he look at Bant, the dull gleam in his eyes making her shiver. “When did he fall asleep?” Qui-Gon’s voice was hoarse, she noted right away, the anxiety within her chest expanding. To hear Master Jinn sound this way was so…odd. The last time she had witnessed him in such a state was when…her master—and the love of Qui-Gon’s life—had unexpectedly passed. Heart clenching at the thought, Bant forced the image of Tahl away from her mind and focused on the Jedi Master sitting before her. “Almost two hours ago,” she peeped quietly. Qui-Gon sighed and sunk onto the edge of the bed, visibly deflating, his shoulders slumping forward in what seemed very much like defeat. This body language was what pushed Bant off the edge, finally deciding to ask the question dangerously lingering on the tip of her tongue.  “Is everything alright?” “I wish I had returned sooner,” Qui-Gon told her quietly. Then, admitting ashamedly, “I haven’t seen him conscious since the night of his collapse.” “Where have you been?” Bant kept her voice light and gentle, the emotion inside her betraying her outward appearance. So, Obi-Wan’s claim earlier had been correct; it wasn’t that she hadn’t believe him, she just thought that it was possible that somehow Qui-Gon may have visited him, but he didn’t clearly remember it. Obviously, the boy had been spot on, though, much to her disappointment. “I’m always watching over him when he’s asleep, but whenever he’s conscious, the Council always seems to keep me occupied—whether it’s meditating, reviewing katas, eating in the refectory or spending time in the Archives. It’s very frustrating.” Bant was unsuccessful in repressing a small smile. She had gotten the impression as a youngling and even in the earlier stage of her Padawan days that Master Jinn was an extremely calm, collected, and serene Jedi at nearly all times—especially when he was enshrouded in the energy of the living Force—but as she had gotten to know him more over time, she had been quick to notice how vulnerable he could be.  “They’re just trying to keep you distracted,” the Mon Calamari offered. “Remember when you got injured on Nal Hutta, and Obi-Wan had to watch over you until you both were rescued? Well, when you returned to the Temple, he refused to leave your side and nearly gave Master Che a full-blown migraine from his non-stop pestering.” Her heart warmed at the thought of a fifteen-year-old Obi-Wan, haunting the Halls of Healing like a phantom, blue-grey eyes wide and unfocused as he endlessly fretted over his master. Force, he was so caring. Bant wasn’t sure Qui-Gon deserved a Padawan as devoted as Obi-Wan. Master Jinn gave her a pointed look, cocking a brow up. “That’s what I’ve been doing—well, at least I was, until Master Che openly threatened me, stating she would use a sleep suggestion on me if I didn’t leave her to work in peace.” Bant giggled. “She said the same to Obi-Wan and that was when he finally caved.” To her relief, the ends of Qui-Gon’s lips curled up in what seemed like a mix of fondness and amusement. He stared distantly behind Bant and mumbled, “They don’t want us to worry, but how can they expect us not to?” Gaze drifting to the boy fast asleep on her shoulder, the Jedi Master’s expression melted into something soft. “He is my Padawan, therefore, he is my responsibility. It is my job to protect him.” Then, with a groan, he added, “Would it kill me to see him awake?” The Mon Calamari chuckled a bit before responding. “He asked about you shortly before he drifted off. He was wondering where you were.” Something like regret flashed across Qui-Gon’s features, causing Bant’s heart to dangerously skip a bit. Master Che’s words floated across her ears almost hauntingly as waves of realization began to wash upon her. Something terrible has happened to him. You sense it too, don’t you? It was all beginning to come together. Something to do with his Master. Qui-Gon’s voice was now nearly a whisper. Eyes glimmering in what appeared to be grief, he choked out, “And that’s exactly why he needs to see me. He needs to know that I’m here. That I would never leave him.” Bant couldn’t resist the temptation of slightly narrowing her eyes. Her anger was creeping up her spine on the verge of exploding, and it took everything inside her to maintain her composure. It was now evident that Qui-Gon had somehow hurt Obi-Wan, and she wanted to find out how and why. She wanted to confront the Jedi Master, demanding as to how he had the heart to upset the boy he called his Padawan.  So many quips and remarks ready to be released, yet she kept them all contained. “Can’t he feel you through your training bond in the Force?” “Our bond is…closed off at the moment,” Qui-Gon admitted defeatedly, a pink flush beginning to make its way up his face. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t reach him.” “What happened?” Shivers were racking down Bant’s spine. If Obi-Wan had closed his side of the bond he shared with his master, the situation must have been more dire than the Mon Calamari expected; Obi-Wan may have been reserved on a normal basis, but he wasn’t one to nearly completely shut down Force bonds, let alone the one he shared with his master. Something seriously terrible must have occurred for him to make such a decision. How badly had Qui-Gon wounded Obi-Wan? The Jedi Master hadn’t answered her question. His gaze flicked downward, and he released another long sigh, but the waves of guilt washing over his features were apparent. Bant’s blood boiled at the sight, but she quickly released her anger into the Force before it could consume her. She would do anything for Obi-Wan. If someone were to hurt him—either physically, mentally, or even both—she would be there in an instant to defend them. Even a powerful Jedi like Qui-Gon wouldn’t stand in her way. And now as she stared the elder man straight in the eyes, the Mon Calamari fought the urge to shout at him. Even the Force wasn’t a comfort at the moment like it usually was, which was utterly frustrating. Giving into her anger was a dangerous temptation, and Bant nearly did, but she shoved the feelings aside in just the nick of time. She had no right to yell at Master Jinn. She didn’t even have the complete story, for Force’s sake. Thus, she didn’t have all the facts. It wouldn’t be right to jump to conclusions. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. Swallowing down the remnants of her dark thoughts and emotions, Bant forced a tight smile onto her face before suggesting, “Why don’t you get some rest, Master Jinn? You need it.” Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest only to clamp it shut a short moment later, seemingly thinking it through. When he finally spoke, his voice was hesitant. “Will you fetch me if he wakes?” “I promise,” the Mon Calamari assured him. “Very well.” The Jedi Master then rose to his feet, sending his sleeping Padawam one last wistful look before turning on his heel and exiting the quarters. Bant watched him leave, and only when she heard the sound of a door closing, signaling that Qui-Gon had enclosed himself within his own rooms, did she turn down to gaze fondly at the sight of Obi-Wan still at her shoulder, shaking her head in amusement. “Reeft was right,” she whispered softly, more to herself as a loving smile etched across her lips. “You really do look so youthful when asleep.” Not feeling quite tired yet, Bant read on her datapad for another hour until the text before her eyes was nothing but a blur. Coming to the conclusion that she would most likely be spending the night by her patient’s side, the Mon Calamari gently eased herself down on the pillows, Obi-Wan’s head still resting against her shoulder. She held his neck up with one webbed hand to support it and was surprised when the boy didn’t even stir the slightest at the movement. It told a lot about his exhaustion that even the touch of Bant’s cool hands against his warm skin didn’t rouse him back into wakefulness. She wasn’t concerned by this at all, however; as long as Obi-Wan got the rest he needed, all would be well. A long while passed before the form resting against her finally began to stir. Jerking her head down, Bant was just in time to witness Obi-Wan’s long, thick eyelashes flutter open, revealing drowsy, sea green orbs. His gaze was bleary and unfocused as he scouted his surroundings before it finally landed on Bant. “Did I fall asleep?” He murmured softly, slight confusion trickling into his voice. The Mon Calamari chuckled in response. “Only for a little while,” she fibbed. Obi-Wan rubbed his face tiredly, seemingly trying to rid the remaining sleepiness hovering over him, and when he turned to look at Bant again a few moments later, she noticed that he seemed much more alert. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “For what?” “You should have woken me up.” Obi-Wan shifted into a sitting posture, pulling the Mon Calamari up with him. “You’ve been here for hours, Bant. That isn’t fair to you.” She gave him a glare in return. “First off, I want to be here. Secondly, these are Master Che’s strict orders, and I intend to follow them.” “You deserve to rest,” the boy protested. “You needn’t worry about me.” “Wow. When you were born, Kenobi, the Force must have blessed you with all the looks and no brains.” Bant rolled her eyes irritably, tightly crossing her arms. “In case you’ve forgotten—you’re sick. Very sick. And you need to be taken care of.” Then, gently easing Obi-Wan back down on the bed, lying flat on his back, the Mon Calamari fluffed his pillow and pulled the covers up to his chest, allowing her grin to escape at the boy’s grateful smile. “I’m not an invalid, Bant,” Obi-Wan stated, dry tone betraying his expression. “At the moment, you are,” she shot back without missing a beat. “And you will get some rest. Don’t make me use a sleep suggestion on you, because I also will.” “I’ll just resist it.” “You’ll be unsuccessful in your weakened state,” Bant informed him matter-of-factly. “So, I wouldn’t try it.” To her surprise, Obi-Wan didn’t argue, only chucking softly and burying his head deeper into his pillow instead. Grey eyes widening, the Mon Calamari performed the expression of mere shock, placing her hands on her hips in disbelief. “You’re not going to argue? Force, you must be more tired than I thought.” “You have been spared from my merciless tongue just this once.” Obi-Wan gave her a coy smile in return, a single ginger brow cocking up mischievously. Bant rolled her eyes and made her way to the door. “Go to sleep, Kenobi,” she laughed. “I’ll come check on you in the morning.” “Thank you, Bant,” the boy replied, sea green eyes flooded with warmth. “For everything.” “I’ll always be here for you, Obi,” she told him. “Don’t ever doubt that for a second.” “I won’t.” And then a few short moments later as the Mon Calamari was striding down the dark corridors of the Jedi Temple, fully intent on reaching her own quarters for a good night of rest, she was completely unaware of the sorrow and grief that replaced her warm and bright presence in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s quarters.

The Great Lake, despite also always being known as the Black Lake, had never looked so black and endless as it did now. It was daunting but also intriguing to Harry, the way the moon looked brighter reflecting off the still water than it did in the starry sky. That the moon lit the whole lake up but it still seemed to highlight how dark the water really was. Every so often there'd be a tiny ripple, reminding Harry that there was indeed life in the lake. Alas, life that wasn't very friendly. Though it was probably a friendlier place than the castle, anyhow, Harry thought, thinking of all the changes the castle itself had been through since the war. While still grieving, the students were friendly, a lot more peaceful, more aware of the famous Harry Potter walking the hallways. The castle, however, wasn't so content of the absence of Voldemort. Everywhere Harry walked, the walls, the floor, the windows all seemed to scream at him, to taunt him and remind him what happened where. Every single footstep was painful. He could barely walk anywhere without a nasty message from the castle or someone hounding him and thanking him. The only place he'd felt at home was turning against him. Before he'd killed Voldemort, he'd thought, in the brief moments where he believed he could kill him, that after he'd feel safe and happy and relieved. But he didn't. He felt claustrophobic, as if the walls of the castle were getting darker and closing in on him, never letting him forget the pain that everyone else seemed to have dismissed already. He also felt more alone than ever. Every single day without fail there'd be another group of students coming to faun over him and thank him and try and be best friends, but none of them wanted him because he was him. They wanted his fame and his name and in all honesty he'd much rather be alone. Not forgetting that Ron and Hermione had all but forgotten him. They were so loved up with each other they hadn't noticed Harry pulling away. Admittedly, though, Harry didn't want them to notice. He'd burdened them long enough, they deserved their happiness. The only reason he was back for the god forsaken 8th year was Hermione's insistence. He'd have been happy missing out on getting his NEWTS in favour of working for muggles. At least that way he wouldn't be famous and plastered on newspapers for doing something as mundane as spilling a drop of milk on himself. He'd never enjoyed seeing his face on the Daily Prophet, much less now he wanted to forget his own name. His life had never been his own and he craved that more than anything. He didn't want to have to appear strong every day, strong enough to hold the entire wizarding community up. He didn't want to have to be happy all the time, because we wasn't at all and in all honesty he had never been. He wanted someone he could lean on as much as they could lean on him. He needed that otherwise he would break. "If you step any closer to the water you're going to fall straight in and get yourself killed," Harry's ears perked at the familiar voice that was uncharacteristically not malicious, rather it was cautious and hesitant. He hadn't heard anyone approach nor had he realised he was only inches away from the edge. "I hope so," Harry breathed, not making a move to step back. Only once the words left his mouth did he realise how true they were. How much he really pined to be with his parents and his godfather. The boy behind him stepped forward and snorted sounding a tiny bit less reluctant, but still not nasty. "You shouldn't joke about things like that." For the first time, Harry lifted his head, his eyes falling on the one and only Draco Malfoy, who looked as self-pitiful as Harry himself felt as he stared straight ahead. While Harry's anguish was all internal, the only place he allowed it to be, Malfoy's was very visible both in his exhausted face and the nearly drastic weight loss. It was quite a haunting thing seeing the once constantly smirking and mocking fave so ... Worn out. Grey eyes not sparkling, pale skin a little more paler, defined cheeks that much more defined. For once Harry realised he wasn't the only one suffering, wasn't the only one who still felt no peace. Though everyone hated Malfoy and everyone loved Harry, the effect ended up the same. They were both alone and lost after their only true aim in life (to win the war) had ended. Harry didn't have it in himself to hate the Slytherin anymore, not only because of the lack of energy but because he'd finally acknowledged the similarities between the two of them. Harry stepped back, "who said I was joking?" Malfoy's eyes snapped up, somehow causing Harry's heart to beat a tiny bit faster after being at such a dull ache for what felt like forever, and he stared straight at Harry. His face was blank but there was something in his eyes that told the Gryffindor he wasn't alone. Harry's heart beat even faster. For what felt like hours that must have only been 30 seconds, the former rivals stared at each other until they heard giggles, footsteps and a very familiar, "Harry! There you are!" Malfoy's eyes snapped away at the sound of Hermione. Harry physically felt the disappointment at seeing the walls go back up in Malfoy, for the first time in the 10 minutes they'd been together. "Oi, saviour Harry, what you doin' out here? Preventing Slytherin suicides?" Ron chuckled. Harry flinched heavily. Hermione scolded Ron. Malfoy swivelled round and stormed off. Harry turned to glare at his best friend, who had already started blushing from Hermione's berate but looked even more mortified at Harry's expression. Deep down he knew Ron, and everyone, had every right to dislike Draco, but Harry was fully against joking about people's death. Much less the only person he'd seemed to have connected with the whole month they'd been back, even after those mere 10 minutes stood together. No one said anything on the walk back to the castle, through the silent but loud to Harry hallways, up to the mixed 8th dorms. The tension was thick though, with Hermione and Ron sneaking glances at him, cautiously, as if they'd only just noticed there was something wrong. Harry didn't even mention it was Slytherin preventing Gryffindor suicide. Not the other way around. Instead he stayed silent, discreetly searching for Draco in the common room, not finding him, getting changed and climbing in to bed without a word. Curling up in his sickeningly familiar red quilts (despite having the whole inter house unity rule in place and sharing the same common room, the houses still shared dorms) and dreaming of a pale bony hand to hold. ------- The next 6 weeks got no easier. Students didn't relent in their gratitude, the Daily Prophet still got excited over Harry blinking his eyes, Hermione and Ron had forgotten about the night they'd found him at the lake with Draco, and Draco himself had been avoiding Harry. It hurt ten times more knowing that actually he hadn't been alone, and that Malfoy was isolating himself again because of Harry's best friend's stupid mouth. Harry had no idea how to reach out, but it was very clear they both needed one another. The Slytherin never came to dinner but Harry had a feeling that wasn't really his choice, not if the snickering from his table when he was near was anything to go by anyway. He always sat at the back of the classroom alone in their shared classes, and Harry would go and sit with him if he wasn't pulled in another direction by one of his adoring fans. He was barely ever in the common room either. If he wasn't in lessons he was in his dorm doing Merlin knows what, but his bedroom, for some reason, was the place he was reluctant to approach him, as if he was breaching some sort of privacy line. Harry wanted his own privacy, he didn't want to take it away from anyone. Even though that someone probably had far too much privacy, he was alone and lonely. Harry wasn't, Harry was alone and surrounded. Every night, Harry escaped to the lake in hopes of the Slytherin turning up, but he never did and somehow Harry's much craved privacy was painful. It was only when, nearly 2 months after being at the lake, Malfoy turned up to Charms with a bruised face that Harry decided he couldn't sit back and wait for Draco to willingly be within Harry's proximity. Seamus was tugging at Harry's when he caught sight of the white blond hair coming through the doorway, his head ducked. Absentmindedly, Harry let his feet move in whatever direction the Irishman wanted them to when Malfoy lifted his head a little, his eyes catching Harry's very briefly before dropping again as he took his place. But Harry had already seen the bruises painted over his nose and cheek and jaw though and he froze. "Harry?" Seamus asked but Harry just shook him off, turned to him to tell him to sit down as the rest of the Gryffindors watched and then he turned to head to the back of the classroom. He ignored the whispering instead focusing on Malfoy who had lifted his eyes again, his brow furrowed as Harry approached him, his shoulders a little taller and his fingers clenched around his quill. Harry only vaguely wondered why Draco hadn't removed the marks before he was dropping his bag and sitting down beside the Slytherin. "Potter," Malfoy sounded, for all the world, as if he wanted to sound malicious but couldn't. He even tried scowling but he looked too tired to succeed in anything half menacing. It was quite pathetic really, and with the way his cheeks flushed a little, Draco agreed. "Draco," Harry breathed, watching as the Slytherin's eyes, now wide and startled, flickered up to his, once again starting some sort of tiny storm in his chest. As Harry stared intently at Draco, not entirely sure what expression was etched on to his face, the other boy's face softened, his shoulders slumping a little before he murmured very softly, "Harry," as if he was tasting it on his tongue. Harry's whole body relaxed and he felt himself smiling a little, liking the way his name sounded without all the unnecessary admiration poured into it. His name sounded as if it was coming from a complete stranger, and really it was because this wasn't the Draco he'd known for the past 7 years, and that was a massive breath of fresh air. Draco stared at him with a look that was hate and jealousy or love and lust for someone they didn't know. And although it wasn't a look of being comfortable with someone, it was good enough for Harry and he felt a little bit lighter than he had for months. ------- The lesson passed by faster than it would have if he'd have sat elsewhere. Neither boys spoke, and Harry hadn't found out anything about Draco's face, but there was something ... calm between them. The silent understanding that had been there almost two months ago was there again and Harry found it easy to just work, and focus on his notes. Of course the other Slytherins and Gryffindors found them both quite fascinating but no one commented. That they could hear anyway. Surprisingly, no on had said anything while they left the classroom either, after Harry and Draco had nodded at each other, and Harry had rejoined his group. He knew Ron was about to at one point but Hermione had stopped him and that was that. Harry wasn't going to be the first to bring it up. ------- Every lesson Harry and Draco shared after that, they got into the habit of sitting together. It was nearly always silent between them unless one needed help, they never talked about their problems or the war or anything but subjects. This seemed to be okay for both of them because Harry was always calmer and unburdened in the times he got to sit beside Draco and Harry had a suspicion it was mutual. But the calm only lasted so long. He was still, after 4 months, hounded by his fans, or the newspaper and it was tiring. It was tiring keeping the smile on his face 24/7 when there were times he just needed to break down and cry. He probably wasn't at that stage with Draco yet though. So one night, after seeing an article on his goddamn love life in the Daily Prophet and then double the amount of girls trying to flirt with him after it had been speculated he was single, he ended up down at the lake, grabbing stones and throwing them aggressively into the water. His shoulders were hunched, his breathing rough and his mind was all over the place. He had too many thoughts in his head. Bad thoughts. End your life Harry, you won't have to see yourself in the papers anymore, you'll be left alone, you'll be peaceful, you'll be with your parents. Deep down, he knew that was not the best solution (well it was for him, perhaps in the short run anyway) but it was more and more tempting the closer to the lake he got, the more stones he threw. He'd thought, stupidly, that the world, the wizarding world at least, would be a better place but he was wrong. So fucking wrong. It was a safe place, there were no maniacs out, but there were fame and memories and they were so much more suffocating. At least a maniac you could kill and end forever. It was 10 times harder trying to blend in like the normal person he was and to push all the bad memories away that only seemed to be haunting him and not anybody else. Everyone else was either too busy staring gooey eyed at each other (Hermione and Ron) and the rest of them, the majority of the school were giving him goddamn special treatment that. He. Did. Not. Want. "Fucking stupid fucking magic!" He screamed, launching the biggest rock he'd found into the water. It made a rather large splash but Harry was too busy scooping up all the pebbles he could find to throw them all in at once to notice it or even feel the water splatter. "Are you trying to throw the whole castle in the lake there, P-Harry?" Despite the splash of water, and the softness of the voice, Harry still managed to hear Draco as he stepped down the last step. The remaining stones immediately fell from Harry's hands as he turned to look at him. "Preferably, yes," Harry nodded, suddenly not as angry. "What have you got against the castle?" Draco asked, hesitantly, stepping even close, only a couple of feet away from Harry. Harry snorted, turning fully to stare at the looming sky high that seemed to be mocking him, even from the outside, "I want it be the home it started out as." When Harry looked back to Draco, he was closer, inches away and the Gryffindor found his breath caught in his throat, he could smell soap and freshness, and could feel warmth from his body and the breath from his lips. "It isn't your home anymore?" Draco asked quietly, staring down the couple of inches, the moon glistening from the silver hair that was artfully styled, one thing that clearly hasn't suffered. Shaking his head, Harry exhaled, trying to lose some of the bitterness he had, "no. Every corner I go it gets narrower and darker and I remember things. Deaths. That happened because I was born." Harry's breath was shaky. "That's exactly how I feel when I'm in the Manor. I can still hear people screaming down the hall, I can still see the corpses of the muggles and the half-bloods, I sit in my bedroom and I feel the fear I felt when the Dark Lord was living only feet away. It doesn't go away." Draco's voice trailed to a whisper and Harry looked up at him. Draco was staring straight at Harry, his eyes glistening, the irises so pale and grey they rivalled the moon. "But I come to Hogwarts, and it's hardly any better, Harry. I had a direct hand in killing those people, students, I shared classes with some of them. You didn't. You were on the right side, you sacrificed yourself for all of us, no one blames you for those deaths. They do me, my family. And you know what, they're right to. I know, knew, I was on the wrong side, I followed a maniac who killed irrationally. I was scared. I was a coward. I didn't fight for myself. And I'll have that mark forever on my arm reminding myself. You," Draco's voice shook the tiniest bit as he lift his hand, rubbing a thumb across Harry's forehead, over his scar. Harry shuddered, "Harry, I know you hate your scar, I know you hate what it means, I know you hate being adored for it, and I understand now you hate attention, but you have a future. I-I," he took a deep breath, "I don't. Not in the wizarding world." Harry stared at Draco, who was chomping at his lip, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched his own thumb rub Harry's scar. The scar he didn't hate so much with Draco's touch. Once again, Harry felt selfish, because he knew most of what Draco had said was true. He was on the wrong side. His side did kill unnecessarily. Harry's did too, but it was self-defence. Harry didn't know how to reply, there was so much of Draco's speech that he wanted to contradict, but he didn't know how to put it all into words, to convince Draco of it. Admittedly, he couldn't deny that the Slytherin had been a coward, he'd been on the wrong side since the beginning and he knew it, but he was doing it for his family, to stay by his family's side, and Harry would do anything for his family. He sacrificed himself for his family and his friends. His mother put herself in front of a killer for him. Narcissa Malfoy had lied to the Dark Lord to save her son. Draco did what he had to do to be with his family, and that was not a cowardly thing to do. Harry said as much. Draco huffed a little. The tears in his eyes broke Harry's heart. He went to drop his hand but Harry caught it on instinct, squeezing it in his own. "I don't want a future in the wizarding world," he said before Draco could argue further, "I want a normal life. What I did, killing Voldemort, was a great thing, sure, but I've been trying to do that for 6 years running, and while I don't want to forget about it, I don't want to reminded about it every second. I don't want that to be me. That's not me. I'm just Harry. An 18 year old male who wants to be left to get on with life with people who appreciate me for me, not my scar or my wand." He breathed, his eyes falling on to Draco's lips, "I want to be left to explore my sexuality without it being in the newspaper, like a normal 18 year old. I want to kiss people who want to kiss me, not the Boy Who Lived, like a normal 18 year old. I want to be happy and at peace and wonder what ridiculous job I want to do," "-like a normal 18 year old," they both whispered at the same time. Harry's eyes lifted to Draco's, his heart fluttered just a little, and then they both stepped forward. Draco bent his head, dropping his lips to Harry's. Despite knowing what was coming, they both gasped at the contact. His lips were warm and full and gentle on his. It sent sparks through Harry's whole body and he couldn't help but wrap his arms around Draco's waist and pulled him flush to him. The world narrowed and, for once, it was good. It was amazing. Draco in Harry's arms, Draco's hands clenched in Harry's hair, their kiss getting more desperate. Harry couldn't pinpoint the moment he realised he wanted to do this, but he decided, right now, he wanted it forever and ever. Eventually, though, Draco pulled away, though he left his forehead on Harry's and his hands in his hair. "Eight more months. Let your adoring fans hound you and coo over you for that long. And then let's go. Let's be normal young adults elsewhere." There were a lot of things they needed to talk about. But for now Harry just wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss and for once forget about the angst.

Darcy woke up to the grey light of dawn and Clint trying to sneak in. Badly. Instinctively her eyes went to the papasan chair, but it was empty. Even the empty Goldschläger bottles were gone. "Hey," she muttered sleepily as he crouched down next to her on the sofa and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "There's a big bed in there—what are you doing out here?" "Trying to wait up for you." She scrubbed her hands across her face, surreptitiously checking the corners of her mouth for drool. "And failing. You get the bad guys?" Clint dropped a kiss on her forehead. He was still wearing his gear, and smelled faintly of smoke and ozone. "We got the bad guys." "You're okay? Not irradiated or dented or anything?" "I'm okay. Just need some rack time." "My rack?" she asked, giving him a sleepy smile. "I wish." He picked her up, afghan and all, and carried her into the bedroom. "I'm gonna shower, grab some sleep, then Coulson's debriefing us. Go back to sleep. It's Saturday." "S'too early," she muttered as she curled up under the duvet. But she grabbed his arm and pulled him down for an absolutely filthy kiss before he could leave. "Cinnamon?" he murmured against her mouth. "Toothpaste," she lied. Then he clicked off the light, and she fell back asleep. It wasn't until hours later, as she rinsed conditioner out of her hair in the shower, that she realised she hadn't told Clint about her late night visit from Loki. Darcy had been to the Avengers Initiative training gym before. It had been part of the tour when she'd moved into the mansion. But not really being the type to work out, she hadn't been back since that first day. Clint was at the weight bench, power-lifting when she padded across the floor. No-one else was in there, and sunlight streamed into through a wall of windows that she knew were tinted on the outside so no-one could peer in to catch a peek of Captain America without his shirt, which was a shame because Steve without his shirt was kinda a religious experience. "Aren't you supposed to have a spotter to keep from dropping one of those on your head?" Darcy asked from a safe distance away, and was rewarded with Clint shifting his grip. Some Special ops guy, if a glorified secretary can sneak up on him, Darcy thought with a grin. "Steve usually does it, but Tony took him out to Coney Island." "Don't tell me—hot dog eating contest?" "Nah—that's in July." Clint set the barbell back on the stand, and sat up. Darcy couldn't help staring at the rippling muscles of his abdomen, feeling her mouth go dry. He brought a towel up to his face, patting it dry, and Darcy stepped closer. "Have you got plans tonight?" "My plan mostly consists," he said with a wicked grin as he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her closer, "of picking up where we left off last night. After all, I still haven't seen your tattoo." Darcy wrinkled her nose. "Ew. You smell like sweaty guy." "Would you prefer Axe body spray and hair gel?" "Shut up. You know I don't. But you still reek." However, that didn't stop her from straddling him and draping her arms around his neck. "What's tonight?" "I kinda promised someone I'd go out to dinner with him. It came up all of a sudden, and I can't back out." "We haven't even hooked up yet, and you're already cheating on me?" "No—it's his first date with this... girl he likes. And he wants me there for moral support since I know them both. And he said you can come too—" "Sure. So long as I don't have to wear a monkey suit. Where?" "I'm not sure yet, I need to ask him. But the thing is—" "Darcy!" Thor's voice boomed from the doorway, and the god of thunder bounded in, a wide grin splitting his features. "Hey, Thor. Kinda in the middle of something—" "The Lady Sif has sent word from Asgard that she is coming, for to sup with my brother." Thor ignored the fact that Darcy was in Clint's lap, and swept her up into a bear hug that nearly cracked her ribs. "Never would I have dreamed that my brother held such tender feelings toward our childhood companion. But this is the first time he has ever made any intentions known, that he might someday mend his relationship with our homeland." "Wait, Loki?" Clint said, clearly able to add two and two and get five. "This guy you want us to double date—Loki? What the fuck, Darcy?" Darcy poked Thor's shoulder with one stiff finger. "Okay, lemme down. You gotta lemme down now. Feet. On the floor." Thor set her back down, and Darcy took a step toward Clint, who looked like his head was going to explode. "It's not what you think. It's not a big deal—" "This is a huge deal. This is not some cute cuddly stray kitten you found in the goddam park here. This is Loki. How many people have gotten hurt—gotten killed—because of the shit he's pulled? How many times has he tried to kill me, or the rest of the team? Jesus, he tried to kill you that one time in New Mexico." "I know. Don't you think I know that? Hello—not stupid, here." "You said his weird thing with you was over. You told Director Fury—" "—That Loki hadn't kidnapped me again. Which is true, I swear! There was no actual kidnapping! Just...talking. I swear, that's all." "When? Where?" "Um... okay, this is gonna sound way worse than it actually is—" "Seriously, Darcy. I am not kidding here." "Okay, but you have to promise not to freak out." "I am already freaking out," he pointed out. "You have to promise not to freak out more." Clint's expression remained stony, and he crossed his arms, making his biceps do that thing where Darcy usually lost her train of thought because holy crap, that boy was hot. "The first time he showed up at the diner, while you were in the men's room. And then, um, kinda, last night... in my apartment?" "Darcy, what the ever living fuck—" Darcy actually ducked behind Thor, as he was a convenient wall of godly muscle. Clint probably wouldn't actually throw a punch at her, but if he did, she figured Thor would make an awesome Asgardian shield. "It's not that bad!" "He was in the mansion and you didn't tell anybody?" "Well, it kinda wasn't... the first... time. And he didn't do anything! Okay, we watched a movie, and then last night he was drunk and needed to sleep it off. But nothing happened!" "Nothing. Happened." Clint repeated, and yeah, this was not good. A vein was standing out in his forehead, and he looked about ready to take her apart. "You had a fucking movie night with a guy who has killed people—" "But he hadn't! I mean, he did, but then we kinda... I double-dog dared him not to kill anybody for a whole week, and then it was weeks and weeks and nothing happened. And you and I were sorta on a break, okay? And I know I fucked up. Believe me, I know. But he's not like... He's different. I don't know. He's not better, exactly. He's just different." Clint just glared at her, while Thor looked back and forth between them, clearly confused. "Friend Barton, I do not understand your ire. Surely this is nothing but good news?" "Look, buddy, I know he's your brother and all. Believe me, I know... better than you think. I get it. But this is Loki we're talking about. He's hurt people. He's killed people. Innocent people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, who got in his way. And I don't care how much you love him and miss him. He's not a good guy. And she—" he pointed at Darcy, who ducked behind Thor's massive bulk at the force of the accusation in his eyes. "She let him have free rein of our home." "It wasn't like that! He wasn't after Avengers secrets, or up to anything. This is a guy who freaking cried during How to Train Your Dragon, for fuck's sake!" "Dragons?" Thor echoed, and Darcy wished like hell that she'd been up-front with Loki's brother from the start, because that would have made this a whole lot less awkward. "It's a kid's movie. It's kinda my go-to movie when I'm feeling like—I was having a bad night, okay? And then he showed up, and I was all freaked out and then..." Her shoulders dropped, and she could feel her eyes smarting with angry tears. "We just sat and watched the movie like normal people. I know it sounds nuts. Believe me." She sat down on the weight bench, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them as she looked up at Clint and Thor. "He doesn't have anybody. And for some weird reason, which I still do not entirely understand, he picked me to talk to. Okay, so sometimes he treats me like a hamster, but that's better than taking me hostage or whatever. And I don't want to be just one more person in this guy's life who let him down and rejected him and chose everyone else ahead of him just for what he is. For not being, you know—him." She waved at Thor, whose hair was like a blond halo from the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, his blue tee-shirt stretched across his pecs. He was a god. He was the good son. He was her best friend's boyfriend, for pete's sake. And he really was like a giant puppy, in addition to being the heaviest hitter in the Avengers Initiative. Thor's face softened, but Clint was still glowering at her. He swam in her vision for a moment as her eyes stung and pricked with tears. She blinked and he came clear again. "Loki trusts me. I don't know why, but he does. And I don't want to fuck that up. Because..." Because he's my friend. "Because people get hurt when Loki feels alone and betrayed by the people he trusts. All those people you were talking about—they got hurt because he chose to hurt people, because once upon a time, people hurt him. And maybe if he isn't alone, then he can be better than he was. I dunno. I had to try." She could feel her bottom lip quivering, and her cheeks were hot and her nose was starting to run. This was definitely not her finest hour. Then Clint got down on his knees, and pulled her hands away from her face, brushing away her tears with the balls of his thumbs. "I get that you just wanted to help. I love that you tried to help." He rested his forehead against hers, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "But why didn't you tell me?" "After the diner, I knew I should have... I knew, but I made a stupid choice. And then I just kept on making stupid choices, because I didn't want you to be mad at me. And...." Her breath hitched in her throat, and she could feel a tightness in her chest as she fought the inevitable tears. "Look, I didn't want you to be with me because you were ordered to baby-sit me." "You're an idiot," he said, but fondly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. Darcy sniffled, wiping the heel of her hand across her eyes. "Yeah, I know." "But you're also a good person, Darcy Lewis." "Please don't tell Director Fury—" she started, hiccuping sobs still bubbling past her lips, "because he's gonna be really mad, and I need this job. Not just to pay my stupid student loans—" Clint leaned forward and shut her up with his mouth, since that was already a proven method of getting her to stop babbling. The kiss was short, and sweet, which was good because Darcy couldn't really breathe thanks to her stuffed up nose. She opened her eyes to see Thor looking down at both of them, his broad grin fixed firmly back in place as he laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "I know that it would not please Fury and the son of Coul, but it means a great deal to me, that you would accompany my brother tonight. If you wish, perhaps I—" "Oh Jesus, no!" Darcy blurted out, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean, I think it is really important that whatever goes down with Loki and Sif, you not be there. I just think that would be a really bad plan. The worst. Just... not good." "I understand. My brother and I... we have an uneasy peace at the best of times, and I do not wish to upset what is clearly a very delicate situation. But should you need me, I swear to you, I will be there at your side as fast as the winds and Mjolnir can carry me." "Thanks, buddy. I mean that. And we may still take you up on it." "But—" "—But like Darcy said, Sif will be there. And we'll be there. And hopefully, nothing bad will go down." Clint turned back to Darcy, smoothing her hair back from her face. "But I am putting my foot down about the venue. I don't want any innocent civilians at risk. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this my way." Darcy opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and nodded mutely.

Every muscle in Mickey Milkovich’s body aches. When he’s not at the diner, he’s usually working out or trying to make the house something close to presentable in case his PO decides to drop by one day, and it’s starting to catch up to him. When he throws off his Patsy’s Pies shirt, which reeks of grease and milkshakes, he’s tempted to just fall into his bed and not move until his next shift tomorrow afternoon. There’s a chicken finger dinner platter sitting on his counter that Debbie insisted on sending him home with, but he’s so exhausted he’s almost okay with Iggy snatching it for himself when he gets home. Of course, the moment he collapses on to his sheets is the moment his phone decides to ring. He curses and reaches blindly toward his nightstand. “What do you want?” he grunts, expecting to hear Iggy on the other end. Iggy’s pretty much the only person who calls him these days, usually to tell Mickey they’re out of beer again. Sometimes Debbie will call when she needs open shifts covered. He suspects she’s been calling him more than everyone else, because she thinks he needs the money. It pisses him off, but he really does need the money, so he’s not about to call her out on it. “Why hello to you too, ex-husband. Is so nice to hear your sweet voice.” Mickey shoots up and presses the phone closer to his ear. “Jesus, Svet? Everything alright?” “Yes, everything fine. I talk to orange boy today. Long talk on phone. I decide we are friends again. Thought you should know.” Orange boy. Mickey misses the days he was better at pretending he didn’t give a shit about Ian Gallagher. The old Mickey would’ve been able to convince himself the flip his stomach just did at the mention of him was just a hunger pain. “And why the hell is that my business?” “Prison has not made you any more pleasant.” “Did you fucking expect it to?” Mickey reluctantly hauls himself out of bed and shuffles toward the kitchen. “Wasn’t exactly summer camp, you know. You call for a reason, or you just wanna chat about Gallagher?” “You are sure he did not know you were out, yes?” “Yeah, I’m fucking sure. Can we stop talking about it now?” “Ian sounds sad when we talk on phone. He says you have not talked to him for two weeks.” “Yeah, well, Ian’s a fucking snitch,” Mickey grumbles. He throws down the phone, puts it on speaker, and pulls out Debbie’s chicken finger platter. If he’s going to be bitched at for the next twenty minutes, he’s not going to do it hungry. “You sound sad, too. You should go see him.” Mickey rolls his eyes. “The fuck I sound sad. You're so full of shit,” he says around a mouthful of chicken. He aggressively licks some ketchup off of his fingers, making it sound as gross as possible, hoping she’ll just hang up on him in disgust. “How much he pay you to say that, huh? I’ll talk to him when I feel like it. ‘Sides, it’s none of your fucking business.” “Oh, yes, what a big tough man you are,” Svetlana mocks, and he can almost perfectly picture the sneer on her face right now. “He does not pay me anything, or ask me for anything. He just sounds like sad orange puppy. And you sound like cranky little scared cat.” “Scared cat?” “Yes, scared cat.” “Jesus, do you mean scaredy-cat?” “What is scaredy? This is not word.” Mickey groans, but the sound is muffled by a second piece of chicken. After he takes a long drink of water to wash it down, he turns back to the phone. “I ain’t scared of Gallagher. He made me wait like a fucking year to talk to him. His whiny ass can survive a few weeks.” “So you are punishing him then, yes?” “What? No.” “Then I do not understand,” she huffs, and Mickey imagines she’s shaking her head now. If she were with him, she’d probably be looking at him like he was the biggest moron on the planet. “You are finally free to rub dicks together again.” “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” “And yet you just sit at home like scared cat. Lonely, scared cat.” “It’s fucking scaredy-cat. How long have you been in this country now? Learn to speak fucking English already,” Mickey snaps. “And it ain’t that easy. You got no idea what you’re talking about.” “What is not easy?” she challenges, voice rising. “Rubbing dicks is easy. I should know. Especially when attached to men who look like orange boy.” “Yeah, well, this particular dick is a little more complicated than that, alright?” he sighs, feeling more exhausted with every passing second. “He is good boy. Before I meet Alex and make him stop, he send money for me and Yevgeny every month. He is good with Yev—” “He kidnapped the damn—” “When he was crazy,” she interjects. “Is not crazy now. The pills make his brain normal again. No more kidnapping.” Mickey feels like he should be annoyed by Svetlana’s sudden passionate defense of Ian, especially since she spent the last month not speaking to him on Mickey’s behalf. Instead, it makes his lips twitch up until he can’t fight the smile blooming there any longer. Considering how they all first met, her trying so hard to get them back together is a little bit hilarious. It’s a fucking miracle they ever lived in this house together as a happy quasi-family after what Terry did. “If I promise to talk to him this week, can we drop this?"  “You promise?” “Yes, I fucking promise, alright?” “Fine. We talk about Yevgeny now.” Fear seizes him so abruptly, he almost can’t breathe. Logically, he knows nothing’s wrong with the kid. If there were, Svetlana would’ve led with that rather than Mickey’s and Ian’s dicks. “What? He alright?” “Of course he is alright. You think I let anything happen to him?” she snaps. “He asks to see you again, but I cannot get work off until beginning of next month because boss is asshole. I will bring him down then. We will stay in hotel. I do not want Yevgeny in that piece of shit house.” “Ay, you used to live in this piece of shit house.” “Yes, is how I know is piece of shit. We will get hotel.” “Fine, but I ain’t paying for it.” “Well, yes, obviously,” Svetlana drones. Mickey puts down his dinner and flips off the phone. “Alex will pay, no problems.” “That joker coming too?” “No, he will see piece of shit house I raise Yevgeny in and unmarry me on spot,” she teases, laughter in her voice. “Not to mention cranky, piece of shit ex-husband.” “Then he sounds like a douchebag."  “No, is only joke. He is good man.” Her voice turns more serious. “He is best man I have met in America, and if you ever meet him, you will be nice.” Mickey pictures her holding up a claw hammer as she says that last part, though a rolling pin is probably more likely these days. He’s pretty sure she could do just as much damage either way. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be nice.” He burps and throws away the salad portion of his platter. Debbie would shake her head at him for that, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “So beginning of next month is okay, yes?” “Yeah, sure, whenever,” he blurts out, probably too quickly. He thinks back to when he was scared to even be in the same room as the kid, and now he’s practically desperate to see him again. “I’ll make whatever work.” “Good. He will be happy. He is at school now and then off to sleepover tonight, but if you call tomorrow, you can talk to him.” “Yeah, okay, I’ll call before my shift.” He and Yevgeny have been talking on the phone every week or so since he got out. The phone calls are the only thing that can successfully distract his brain from the relentless chorus of Ian Ian Ian that plays on repeat.  But as much as he loves those phone calls, it’s beginning to feel like it’s not enough. Mickey takes a deep breath and carefully considers his next words. He and Svetlana might be something like friends now, but he’s still not sure how she’s going to react to this request. “So, uh, you think we could maybe work something out after I, you know, get back on my feet? I can make some money, maybe get my own place in a better—” “You want Yevgeny to stay over with you?” Mickey swallows. “I know I probably got no right to ask, but if I can get a nicer place and—” “Yes, we can work something out,” she cuts in, before he can start listing off all the plans he’s made. “But I cannot be bringing him there all the time.” Mickey feels his stomach sink. “Well, it’s not like I can come to you. Can’t leave the fucking state. Maybe I can meet you somewhere?” “No, Ian will do it,” she says, like that’s the final answer, like Mickey's got no fucking say in it. “He won’t mind. We all discuss when I come visit.” “Oh, is that right? You already invite him to hang out with us then?” “Yes, Yev likes him. He misses you both.” Mickey’s eyes drift over to the old couch in the living room. For a moment, it’s almost like 17-year-old Ian is actually there in front of him, swinging Yevgeny gently up and down in his arms. The baby is giggling. Ian tilts his head to the side and meets Mickey’s eyes, a grin on his face, and for the first time in his life Mickey feels like maybe his future isn’t completely fucked. His stomach clenches at the memory. “We’re not there yet, Svet,” he admits, voice soft. “I don’t know if I can handle that.” Seeing Ian with his arm around Yevgeny at the prison made him ask Ian on a fucking date. He has no idea what kinds of stupid ideas seeing them together without prison glass separating them will inspire. “You have whole three weeks to get there,” she argues. “Just talk to orange boy.” “You’re bossy as fuck, you know that?” “Yes, is how you make it in America,” she says. “You tell people what you want them to do, over and over, until they do it. But I must now make to dinner. You call tomorrow, yes?” “Yeah, yeah, said I’d call, I’ll call.” “Good.” The phone beeps before Mickey can say goodbye. The screen goes dark, but he doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at it, waiting for something that’s not going to happen. There’s a part of him that expected Ian to get his number from Debbie by now and start harassing him until he agreed to meet again. He thought Ian might even come marching through the Milkovich front door, like he used to when he was fired up as a kid. He can’t even sit in his own fucking living room without being on edge now, his eyes darting over to the door more frequently than he’ll ever admit. It bothers him that Ian hasn’t even tried to get in touch with him. And it bothers him that that bothers him. He’s the one who asked Ian for space and demanded he let Mickey come to him this time. He’d have to be a special kind of jackass to hold Ian actually listening against him. “Fuck.” He tears his eyes away from the phone and turns to the fridge. When he throws it open, he finds only some beer, a mostly empty jar of pickles, three Jell-O cups, and a carton of milk that’s probably expired. It makes him think of Ian scurrying wildly around his kitchen and blushing red as his fucking hair when he put down the cheese and crackers. He almost told Ian to stop stressing out, that his kitchen was way worse, but he looked kind of adorable all flustered and—fuck, he’s got to stop thinking shit like that. He shuts the fridge and moves to stand in the middle of his house, trying to think of something to do with himself. His body hurts too much to work out. His brain is too wired now to attempt another nap. He has too much pride to beg Debbie for another shift. And he’s too full to go get something else to eat. Besides, if he leaves the house, he’s not totally sure his legs won't start walking toward Ian’s apartment against his will. He remembers feeling restless like this when he first got out of prison. It took an absurd amount of willpower to stop himself from stomping over to the Gallagher house and losing his shit. But he didn’t want to give Ian the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know just how deeply him not wanting to see him again cut. Going to Boystown felt like a natural outlet for all of that uneasy energy. Fucking wasn’t so far from fighting, after all. And if Ian didn’t want to fight with him or fuck him anymore, then there were plenty of fags in the sea, right? The club he started going to was too dark and too loud. The guys were all somehow too aggressive and too fucking prissy at the same time. People kept trying to touch him or push drugs at him. It wasn’t even the club Ian used to work at, but he still kept seeing that redheaded jerk everywhere, smiling at him from the bar or shaking his stupid, perfect ass in gold booty shorts on stage. A couple of mediocre blowjobs and halfhearted fucks in the alley were hardly making the torture of going into that place worth it. Not until he finally met a guy who didn’t try to feel him up within the first thirty seconds of meeting him, didn’t try to convince him to snort some random shit off his abs, and didn’t sound completely moronic when he spoke. His name was Mark, and he’s the only other guy aside from Ian who has the great honor of giving it to Mickey within the crumbling walls of the Milkovich house. They went to Mark’s place two or three times before he insisted they go to Mickey’s instead. Iggy had punched Mickey hard when Mark started wandering the house in nothing but his underwear the next morning, but seeing as the guy was the first decent fuck Mickey had had in over seven years, it was worth it. He remembers staring at Mark’s ass while he walked around the kitchen making breakfast and thinking he might actually be able to do this. That maybe someday he could fuck someone else without seeing red hair and freckles when he closed his eyes. That maybe someday he might be able to get through one day of his life without thinking about Ian fucking Gallagher. Of course, it all went to shit pretty quickly after that. Mickey really should’ve known better at that point. “Jesus, did someone punch your wall?” Mark had laughed, when they sat down on the couch to eat. “Oh shit, there’s more of them. Your brother got some anger issues, man?” “Nah, Ig didn’t make those. He’s cool.” Mark abandoned his eggs and walked over to one of the many holes decorating the walls. He traced the dent with his finger and whistled. “Then who did?” Mickey was tempted to tell him to shut the fuck up and mind his own business, but he was trying to be different now. Normal people shared details about their lives with people they were fucking. Or at least he’s pretty sure they did. “My dad. He’s a dick.” “Fuck, man, this is so wild.” There was a note of amusement in the guy’s voice that made Mickey uneasy. “Holy shit, is that an actual bullet hole?” Mickey squinted at what he was pointing to and nodded. “Yeah, I mean, probably. My brothers used to sell guns. Might’ve forgot to unload one when they were cleaning ‘em or something. Don’t remember any shootouts in the living room, but who knows.” The guy laughed at that and ran his finger over the bullet hole too. Mickey’s uneasiness began to twist into anger. “What, that funny to you?” “Dude, you have actual bloodstains on your walls. This is insane,” Mark said, the same hint of amusement threading through every word. “I seriously can’t even believe this place is real. How do you live here?” “Don’t got much of a choice, do I? I just got out of prison. People ain’t exactly lining up to hire ex-cons with violent felonies on their rap sheets.” “Violent, huh?” The guy smirked at him, eyeing him up and down. Mickey suddenly felt sick. This was all a huge fucking mistake. Why did he think he could bring some random asshole into his house and he’d just understand? He pushed his breakfast away and tried to think of a non-violent way of kicking this guy out of his house before he lost it and did something stupid. “What did you do? Don’t spare any details,” Mark whispered, as he wrapped his arms around Mickey’s middle and placed a kiss on his neck, on that spot just behind his ear. On that spot Ian used to kiss him to wake him up in the morning. “Come on, man, stop.” Mickey tried to shake him off, but Mark just held tighter. “Just tell me,” he said in Mickey’s ear. “Seriously, this is all fascinating.” “Oh yeah, the ghetto is fucking fascinating to you then? I’ve been shot twice. Arrested fuck knows how many times. My dad almost killed me at the local bar for being a fag. Almost killed me in this fucking room actually. That all fucking fascinating to you, too?” “Hey, shit, I didn’t mean it that way. I’ve just never dated someone like you before.” “Someone like me? And what’s that supposed to fucking mean?” It was hard to decide if this was all more embarrassing or infuriating. This guy wasn’t really interested in who he was. He was like one of those weird chicks who wrote love letters to serial killers in prison. Probably saw Mickey’s knuckle tattoos and thought it’d be a kick to fuck around with someone like him for a while. Just to say he did. This guy would probably go back to his North Side apartment and joke to his roommates about slumming it with a guy with bloodstained walls. “Wanna know why I went to prison? Almost killed my ex-boyfriend’s bitch half-sister. Don’t even feel bad about it. Never have. If I had to do the time, I just wish she had actually fucking died. If I ever run into that cunt, I’ll probably try it again.” The guy’s eyes widened, and he took a step back from Mickey. “Yeah, that’s right. This ain’t all a show for your amusement. I am this house. I am this fucking neighborhood. So you wanna jerk off to the bullet holes some more or you wanna get the fuck out of my house?” Mickey hasn’t gone back to the club since that day. Quick alley fucks aren’t worth the headache the music gives him, and he sure as hell isn’t looking for a repeat of Mark. It’s trying to date again that made Mickey realize how easy everything had been with Ian. It seemed insane to think it at first. Sneaking around South Side wasn’t easy. Ian disappearing on him wasn’t easy. Facing his father wasn’t easy. Ian losing his mind wasn’t easy. But as shit as they might’ve been at communicating most of the time, they always understood each other where it really counted. Ian could joke about the holes in Mickey’s walls, because Ian had holes in his walls too. Because Ian understood. Even now that he’s got his fancy North Side apartment, he’d still understand. It isn’t the kind of thing you can just walk away from. Mickey walks into his bedroom and stops in front of a white spot on his wall by the door. He runs his fingers over it. It’s smooth, so Ian must have gotten around to sanding it, just not painting it. He remembers coming home from the Alibi to Ian putting a patch on the wall, over a hole his father left behind when he caught Mickey playing with one of his guns as a kid. “I’m fixing it,” Ian had declared proudly. “I’m going to fix them all. Not like that fucker’s around to make more.” He only got to that one though. His mind must have wandered somewhere else after that, maybe to the suitcase scam, maybe to something else Mickey can’t remember. He splays his fingers over the covered hole and rests his forehead against the wall. “Damn it.” He’s not sure why he ever thought he could forget Ian, not while in this house. His ghost lurks in every fucking corner. “Yo, Mick! You home?” The front door slams. Mickey sighs and pushes off the wall. “Yeah, what’s up?” Iggy’s still in his dirty boots, tracking mud everywhere. “Oh, thank god, thought you might’ve had work. I gotta do a run, but the driver backed out last minute. Get your jacket on, and let’s go. We’ll cut you in good.” “Yeah, I ain’t going on no fucking run, Ig.” Mickey crosses his arms in front of his chest and plants his feet, trying to make it clear this isn’t just a negotiation for more money. “I’m on probation."  “And?” Iggy says, holding out his arms. “So is like everyone else, dude. Who gives a shit? Not like we’re gonna get caught.” “Oh, you can guarantee that, huh?” “We’re careful, man! Just get your jacket. You just gotta sit in the car and drive and collect your money. Easiest job on the fucking planet.” “I said no. Don’t ask me again.” Iggy squints at him, like he’s not totally sure the guy in front of him is actually his brother. “You serious, or you just fucking with me? Because we really gotta—” “I’m dead fucking serious, Ig. Don’t ask me again.” Mickey turns away from him and heads back to the kitchen, in desperate need of a beer. He’s opening one when Iggy appears behind him, muddy footprints still in his wake. “This ain’t funny, Mick. I told ‘em my brother was cool, and I had ‘em covered. You gotta come, or they’re gonna be pissed.” “That’s your fucking mistake, you deal with it. Not going back to jail because you ran your big mouth to some asshole.” “I know you need the money, man,” Iggy argues. “You make jack shit working at that diner. We’re barely keeping the lights on right now.” “I’d rather live in the dark than go back to jail.” Mickey chugs more than half of his beer while Iggy just stands there and gapes at him. When he finally pulls the bottle away from his lips, he burps and raises his eyebrows at his brother. “You wanna chat about something else?” “I knew you were a fag, Mick, had no idea you were a pussy too,” Iggy sneers. “Man up and get your jacket. Enough fucking around.” One of Mickey’s hands tightens around the beer, and the other curls into a fist at his side. He wants so badly to smash his knuckles right into Iggy’s face. He can practically already smell the blood. Then he thinks of the holes in the walls, of Terry’s fists colliding into them, of Ian smiling at him while covering one of them up. He takes a deep breath and drinks the rest of his beer before finally speaking again. “Said no, and I mean no,” he says calmly. “Gonna pay the bills my own way, alright? I got a son, man. Can’t be pulling this shit anymore."  “Oh, so this is about your son then? That what you’re going with? ‘Cos your son didn’t stop you from trying to kill that bitch for your batshit boyfriend. You know what I think this is really about? That ginger asshole. You always turn into a pussy around him. Anything to get his dick back in you like some bitch in heat, huh?” Mickey lunges forward and just barely stops himself from smashing the bottle over Iggy’s head. Iggy laughs again and shoves into Mickey. “Come on, don’t be a little bitch, Mick. Do it.” It’s an invitation. This is how all of their fights started as kids—getting in each other’s space, saying whatever bullshit they needed to get the other to throw the first punch. But Mickey isn’t a kid anymore. He places his palm on Iggy’s chest and pushes him back slowly. “I go back to prison, I’m a dead man. Simple as that. I step into that place again, and Terry or one of his Nazi friends slits my throat. But fuck me for not wanting to die in that place, right? Fuck me for not wanting Terry’s ugly fucking face smirking down at me to be the last thing I see. I’m telling you no because I want a goddamn life. If that makes me a pussy then so fucking be it. I’ve sure as shit been called worse.” Iggy bats Mickey’s hand away. He looks down at the floor and scuffs his boot over it a couple of times. When he looks up, his face has softened slightly, but he still looks pissed. “Whatever, man,” he says. “Good luck trying to survive around here as an understanding fucking citizen.” “The word’s ‘upstanding,’ Ig. Upstanding citizen.” “What-fucking-ever. Fuck you, Mickey.” Iggy flips him off and storms out of the kitchen like a fucking toddler. A few minutes later, Mickey hears the front door slam shut again. As soon as he hears the sound, he sinks to the floor and bangs the back of his head against the wall.     After sitting on the kitchen floor for a ridiculous amount of time, Mickey finally pushes himself up and walks back to his bedroom. All he wants is a nap, but his fight with Iggy has left him even more restless than his conversation with Svetlana. He starts cleaning up instead, hoping to tire himself out enough for some sleep. There’s too much shit on his floor anyways. As he’s throwing his dirty clothes all in to one corner, he catches himself smiling. Just deciding not to commit a crime probably wouldn’t earn him a gold star from most people, but it feels like a big deal to him. Before prison, he wouldn’t have even thought twice about driving Iggy. There was a time when doing a run was just a normal Wednesday. He might not be a giant prick like his dad, but he always figured he’d end up in the same place as him anyways, a career criminal with no future to speak of. But now, he almost feels like maybe he can be different, that maybe he can finally get out of this shitty house and never look back. He starts humming a song he heard at the diner to himself, as he reaches down to grab something sticking out from under his bed. He forgets the song and jerks back like he’s been stung the moment he realizes what it is he’s grabbed. “Oh, fucking hell, there’s no way,” he mutters. Mickey runs his fingers over the thick, dark material. He pulls the jacket out a little further and then flips it over. Gallagher is stitched over the breast just like he knew it would be. “Of course.” He sinks down on to his knees and smooths the uniform over his lap. He’s surprised Ian has never mentioned leaving it behind. This stupid thing used to mean the world to him. He was fanatical about keeping it hung up and perfectly pressed, never allowing it to mix in with the rest of the shitty clothes in their room. As he brushes some dust from the shoulders, he wonders if he can use this as an excuse to drop by Ian’s place. It doesn’t belong here anymore, probably never did, but he doubts Ian would want it back after everything that’s happened. He’s tempted to just shove it back under the bed and pretend like he never saw it. It won’t work, of course. Mickey will know it’s there. It will probably just make the dreams of Ian worse; he always looked hot as fuck when he put it on. Mickey supposes he could just throw it in the trash, but something about that feels wrong. The thought of it mixing in with greasy napkins and cigarette butts makes his stomach turn. It’s been shoved under his bed for who knows how many years, and yet it somehow looks nicer than anything else in Mickey’s room. “Fucking fine,” he mumbles to himself, as he stands back up. His knees creak like an old man’s when they straighten out. They keep creaking when he walks over to their tiny ass coat closet. There are three hangers inside, all empty. He pulls one of them down and slips the uniform over it. He stands back once it’s hung up and stares at the outline of it in the dark closet. Mickey eases the door shut, walks back to his room, and looks longingly at his bed. He knows there’s no use in trying to sleep. When his mind gets stuck on Ian, laying around always just makes things worse. He’s got to find something to distract himself with, and soon, if he doesn’t want to go insane. Part of him wishes Ian would just come through the door, so they could finally talk it all out and see where they land. He needs to know what Ian’s thinking, what he’s feeling, what he wants. He needs to know if Ian’s single, if it even matters if he’s single. He needs to know if Ian can still see him in his life, or if he just feels too bad about everything to let him go completely. But if he ever wants to find any of that out, he’s probably going to have to go to Ian. Just let me come to you. Those were his words. This anxiety and second-guessing is all self-imposed. He honestly hadn’t expected Ian to stay away, but he supposes Ian staying away is Ian trying. Mickey thought space was what he needed. Just some time to collect his thoughts and adjust to the idea of Ian with his nice clothes and his nice North Side apartment. But his thoughts aren’t collected. Every day they just grow more jumbled and confused. Maybe he is punishing Ian like Svetlana suggested. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward. “Fuck it.” He grabs his coat, slips on his boots, and slams the door shut behind him.     The sun is setting by the time he’s reached Ian’s door. It’s freezing out, and Mickey’s thin coat isn’t doing much to help. The cold is starting to settle into his bones, making his teeth chatter. He’s been standing outside, just staring at the gold 14C stuck over the peephole, for at least ten minutes. The lights are on inside, so someone’s obviously home, but Mickey can’t bring himself to knock. In the end, he doesn’t need to. “Well, if it isn’t Mickey fucking Milkovich! Jus’ the man I’ve been waiting for!” a slurred voice exclaims. “What brings you to my humble dwelling? Come to kick my ass?” His hands ball up into fists, as he turns to find Lip Gallagher stumbling down the stairs toward him. There’s a crooked smile on his face and an unfocused, glassy look to his eyes. A bottle wrapped in a crumpled paper bag is balanced in the crook of one arm while the other clings to the railing. “You wasted?” “Why, you not?” Lip slips on the second to last step and falls flat on his ass with a quiet oof. Mickey reaches out to him on instinct, but Lip smacks his outstretched hand away and leans backs against the steps, bottle still safely cradled in his arms. A loud laugh erupts from his throat that makes Mickey flinch. “It’s Friday night, man,” he says. “Catch the fuck up.” “Your brother home?” Lip’s laughter fades into a small hiccup. After a long sigh, he rests his bottle on a stair and grasps the railing with both hands to pull himself back up. “Take it you two aren’t speaking then?” “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Lip doesn’t seem to have heard him. He’s facing the door now and slapping his pockets. “Aha!” he laughs, when he finally finds his keys. After three failed attempts, he finally manages to successfully open the door. “Yo, grab that, will you?” Lip nods to his bottle and then walks inside. Mickey grudgingly does as he’s asked and then follows after him, grateful to finally be out of the cold even if he has to deal with Ian’s fuckhead brother. “Where’s Ian?” “An excellent question, Mickey. An excellent question.” Lip snatches the package out of Mickey’s hands and places it on the kitchen counter. He peels away the paper bag to reveal a handle of vodka. Instead of grabbing a cup, Lip just twists off the cap and takes a long swig. “That all for you?” “Don't know! Does it look like there’s anyone around to share it with me?” Lip asks, swinging his arm out toward the empty living room. The television is on. There’s a naked woman on the screen, wrapping her leg around a pole and smiling down at the camera. Mickey grimaces and looks away. “Doesn’t do anything for you, huh?” Lip laughs, raising an eyebrow. “Would it help if she were a carrot top?” “It would help if she had a dick.” Lip snorts and then takes another drink. Another drink he really doesn’t need, judging by the way he’s swaying on his feet. “Want some?” The offer is tempting, even if Lip has been slobbering all over it, but Mickey waves the outstretched alcohol away. “Where’s your brother, man? Your sister told me he doesn’t usually work Friday nights.” The only answer Lip gives is a smirk so fucking smug Mickey would love nothing more than to punch it right off of his face. A knot starts to form in Mickey’s stomach at the sight of it. He tries not to think of all the places Ian could be on a Friday night, of all the people he could be with. “Debs told you that, huh?” Lip leans against the counter and runs a hand through his already messy hair. “Tryna set you two idiots back up or somethin’? She doesn’t know shit about shit though. Worst fucking romantic track record of us all, and Jesus Christ is that saying something in this family.” The impulse to defend Debbie strikes him, and he wonders where the hell that’s coming from. “She was just making conversation, man,” he says instead, hoping to get the hell out of this conversation as soon as humanly possible. “Where’s your brother?” “You came all this way, and he was right in your fucking backyard.” “What?” “He’s back at the North Wallace house,” Lip spits. The smirk disappears and turns into a hard line. “Congratulations! You’ve already pulled him right back down into the ghetto with you. So great to have you back, Mickey.” “Wait, he’s in your old house right now?” Mickey nearly shouts. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is he doing there?” “Avoiding me,” he answers simply. “Pissed. Always pissed, that one.” Good, Mickey thinks. This fucker deserves it. Without another word, he turns and marches toward the door, ready to make the journey back to South Side. Just as he’s about to reach for the knob, Lip grabs his hood and pulls him back. Mickey swings out an arm, knocking him away. “The fuck are you doing?” “Wanna talk to you,” Lip mutters, narrowing his eyes. “Ian’s good now. He’s good. Happy. And then—hiccup—and then you show up, and it all starts going to shit again. Why can’t you just leave him alone? There’s gotta be some other ass out there you wanna get on, right? Just let him live his life, alright? Let me take care of him.” “He’s a grown ass man,” Mickey snaps. “He can take care of himself.” Mickey moves for the door again, but Lip surges forward and pins him back against it. It would be easy enough to push him away. Mickey might have lost weight but, in this state, he’s pretty sure a strong breeze could knock Lip on his ass. The look in his eyes shocks Mickey still though. There’s something wild in them, something scary. “You don’t know shit, Mickey,” Lip sneers. “You were in prison. You didn’t—you didn’t have to see him fucking fall apart.” “I saw enough!” Mickey yells back. “Everything he pulled when he was with me wasn’t falling apart? I tried to take care of him. I did everything I could.” “Yeah, you tried, but I’m the one who actually did it. You—you didn’t have to get that phone call. You didn’t have to listen to him tell you he had fucking tried to end it all.” Unshed tears begin to line Lip’s eyes. “I don’t—” “Tried to kill himself a little while after you got locked up,” Lip says calmly, like he’s just reciting a line from a book. “Did he tell you that?” Mickey’s chest suddenly feels too tight. It’s hard to breathe, let alone speak, so he just shakes his head. “Took a bunch of shit and then sat himself down in an alley, middle of fucking winter. He’s alive because he called me, and I called 911. Didn’t fuckin’ call me first though. The police looked at his phone.” Lip drops his arm from Mickey and shambles back to the kitchen. When he takes a third long drink from the bottle, Mickey almost grabs the damn thing from him. He doesn’t know how the asshole is still conscious. Lip pushes the bottle away after he’s done, leans his elbows on the counter, and buries his head in his hands. Mickey is just barely able to make out a muffled, “Didn’t fucking call me first.” A heavy weight settles in Mickey’s gut. He doesn't want to hear what's coming next, but it feels like his feet have been glued to the floor. “Called you first,” Lip laughs, bitter and hoarse. “Called his fucking locked up ex-boyfriend instead of his brother.” It’s all Mickey can do to stay standing. The image of Ian shivering in an alley, waiting for Mickey to answer his call, is so violently vivid it makes him ill. “I—I couldn’t—” “No, you couldn’t do shit,” Lip finishes for him, looking up again. “Because you got yourself locked up. Because you couldn’t fucking control yourself.” “I did that for Ian!” Mickey shouts. He hears the tears in voice before he actually feels them running down his face. “She—she ruined everything. We were going to be okay, and then she just fucking tries to ruin his life, and for what? Ian didn’t do shit to her.” The crooked smile stretches across Lip’s face again. It looks grotesque paired with the tears building in his eyes. “I wish you had killed her,” Lip confesses. “Fuck knows I wanted to after what she did. I get you, Mickey. Always have. We aren't as different as you think. Problem with you is you actually act on all that fucked up shit in your brain. Don’t just drink it away like the rest of us. You and your fucking sister both.” “Ay, don’t—” “She ran my ex over with a goddamn car. Nice girl most a’ the time, sure, but that’s psychotic, man. And you, you go and drug Sammi and throw her in a moving crate. Jesus Christ, the shit you Milkoviches will do for love.” Mickey remembers Mandy telling him about mowing down a girl from school. He remembers not caring, not even giving it a second thought. That was just the kind of shit Milkoviches did. That’s how their family stayed on top. It had been engrained in them since they were children—that no one fucked with the Milkoviches, that if anyone did there would be hell to pay. That’s why they never bothered to fix the lock on their front door. No one had ever been dumb enough to break in. Not until the Gallagher brothers, at least. It’s no wonder he and Mandy fell so hard for them—the two reckless, beautiful neighborhood boys who never had the good sense to be afraid of them. “Don’t wanna go back to prison. Ever.” “What if Sammi shows back up? She'll probably get out soon.” “Dunno. Get a fucking restraining order or something."  Lip laughs again, but this time he sounds legitimately amused. “Got scared straight, huh?” Mickey shrugs. “Something like that.” “What the fuck do you even do in prison? How can you have that much time to think and not just be wasted all the time without going insane?” “You know there’s hooch in prison, right?” Mickey asks. “There are ways to get drunk in there, man. You never been to juvie?” “Nope. My report cards always got me out of it.” “Asshole.” Lip grins at that and reaches out to clap Mickey on the shoulder. “What I did, it wasn’t personal,” Lip says, as he brushes past Mickey and stumbles on to the couch. “Jus’—jus’ need to keep Ian on track.” “It was a stupid plan,” Mickey tells him, watching as Lip stretches out and then buries his face into one of the pillows. “Would’ve figured it out eventually, even if your sister never came along. We decide we wanna be together, you ain’t gonna be able to keep us apart. Worse shit than you has tried.” “You wanna be with him then?” The question is muffled by the pillow. “After everything he did.” “Wasn’t all his fault. And that’s none of your fucking concern.” “Whatever. Just don’t hide him away again. Don’t take him away from us. We need him too.” The words are still muffled, but Mickey can hears the cracks between them. He thinks Lip might be crying, but he’s not about to get closer to find out for certain. “You gonna be alright?” “’M fucking fine.” Lip reaches up and pulls the blanket draped over the couch around him. “Just leave me the fuck alone.” Mickey doesn’t need to be told twice.     It’s dark enough now that he can almost see the stars if he squints. North Wallace Street is surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. There’s music and laughter and yelling coming from some of the houses, but Mickey seems to be the only one outside. Well, Mickey and Ian Gallagher, apparently. Ian is sitting on the Gallagher porch, in the same fucking spot he was sitting in last time Mickey came marching down this street. There’s a cigarette in his hand and a pile of papers and books at his feet. He’s looking up at the sky so intently, it takes him a few minutes to notice Mickey standing just outside of the fence. When their eyes meet, Mickey’s heart starts to race. His mouth goes dry, making it hard to swallow. He tries not to think about what happened the last time he stood here. You can’t fix me. I’m not broken. “Hey,” he says. “Hey,” Ian answers. “Wanna sit?” Mickey nods and settles in next to him, closer than he really needs to be. He tells himself it’s only because it’s cold out, but it’s hard to disregard the pull he feels toward Ian. The arm that’s now pressed against his feels like it’s on fire, in the best way. He wants to push closer, wants to bury himself inside Ian until the fire consumes him. “Went to your apartment first. Saw your brother."  “Shit,” Ian breathes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and then offers it to Mickey, who takes it without hesitation. “I’m sorry. Figured Debs would mention I was back here.” “Nah, she’s too fucking loyal to you. Won’t say shit. Stone fucking wall.” Mickey hands the cigarette back and focuses on the way Ian’s fingers seem to linger against his. “You been trying to get information out of her then?” Ian teases. “You wanna know something, just gotta ask, Mick.” There are a million questions he wants to ask, especially after what Lip told him, but he manages to contain them for now. “Your brother was in rough shape. Drunk off his ass.” “Damn it,” Ian mutters, stubbing out the cigarette. “He say anything to you?” “Said a lot of shit to me.” “Fuck. Whatever he said, I doubt he really means it,” Ian says. “He can just be an asshole when he’s drunk. He really doesn’t hate you, I swear. We just never made sense to him. Didn’t pass the scientific method, or whatever. He doesn’t get how it was between us.” “And how was it?” Mickey asks, smirking. Ian knocks his shoulder into Mickey’s. “You know. You remember. It was good, for a while. We—we loved each other, and we were trying. It’s just—we were kids and everything kept getting fucked and it got too hard.” We loved each other. Mickey’s chest tightens. It has always bothered him that Ian never said he loved him when they were together. It’s a stupid thing to get hung up on. It’s probably his own fault he never heard the words, probably scared Ian off of even thinking about it. Plus, even if he never said it, Ian’s love was obvious to him long before Mickey was ready to admit his own feelings, even to himself. No matter how hard Ian tried to hide it, Mickey could see it in his eyes, in the soft way he smiled when Mickey snapped at him, in the way Ian would sit too close and let his hands linger too long. We loved each other. The words overwhelm him. They sink into his skin and make his entire body tingle. It fills him with an anxious energy he’s not quite sure what to do with. He wishes Ian would hand him another cigarette. He needs something to do with his hands. “You okay?” When Mickey turns his head, Ian’s staring at him. Their faces are so close, Mickey can count the faint freckles smattered across Ian’s nose. His leg starts to shake, jumping up and down on the step, like it’s ready to run off with or without the rest of him. His breath catches when Ian cautiously places a hand on that knee. His brain shuts off at the contact. For once, he’s not drowning in old memories of them. He’s not obsessed with what went wrong between them, of what could still go wrong. He’s not really thinking at all when he leans forward and presses his lips to Ian’s. They are as soft as Mickey remembers and warm against his, but they’re not moving. In fact, as Mickey begins to snap out of his Ian-induced trance, he realizes that his ex’s entire body has tensed up. Mickey rips his head back and pushes himself to the opposite side of the step. The expression on Ian’s face is unreadable. The only indicator that he even noticed the kiss is a slight widening of his eyes. “Shit, sorry, I just—” “Hey, no, don’t,” Ian whispers, following after him. “You just caught me off guard.” One of Ian’s gloved hands reaches up to cup Mickey’s cheek while the other rests on the step just above them, his arm circling around Mickey’s shoulders. Ian leans in until their noses are brushing together, and their lips are hovering not even an inch apart. “This okay?” That little bit of space is more maddening than the prison glass had ever been. It only takes Mickey a few seconds to close the distance. Their lips crash together again, with more heat this time. As Ian sucks on his bottom lip, Mickey moves his arm around Ian’s waist, letting his hand eventually settle on his hip. He pulls Ian closer to him and can’t help the quiet moan he makes when he suddenly feels Ian’s tongue pushing into his mouth. “Hey, boys.” They break apart instantly, nearly throwing themselves from the steps in their haste to get away from each other. When Mickey looks up, Fiona is standing in front of them with a bemused smile. He should probably say hi or something instead of just gaping at her like an idiot, but he’s so out of breath, he’s not positive anything would come out if he tried. “Uh—hey, Fi.” Even in the darkness, it’s obvious Ian’s blushing. “Um, sorry?” “Don’t be sorry,” she chirps, smiling wider. “We’ve all made out on these steps at some point, haven’t we? Didn’t wanna interrupt, but the back door’s broken so—” “Oh, shit, right,” Ian says, hopping up to make room for her. “I’ll fix that tomorrow.” “No rush.” Fiona pulls her hands out of the pockets of her coat and starts walking up the steps. To Mickey’s surprise, she stops next to him. “Good to see you again.” She leans down to squeeze his shoulder, and Mickey nods to her in return. “You two are welcome inside, you know. Don’t gotta freeze your asses off out here. I’m headin’ right to bed anyways.” With that, she smiles at them one more time and disappears inside. Ian sits down again. “Sorry about that,” he says sheepishly. “Forgot she was out.” “There’s way too many of you fucking Gallaghers,” Mickey mutters. “You got another cigarette on you, firecrotch?” Ian chuckles. “’Course I got another cigarette.” He reaches into his pocket, taps one out of the carton, and hands it over to Mickey. Once it’s between Mickey’s lips, Ian leans in close again and lights it. “You gotta share though.” Mickey takes a long drag. “Whatever.” “So, uh, what was that for?” “What was what for?” “The kiss, you asshole,” Ian laughs. “What brought that on?” “Dunno,” Mickey answers, shrugging. “I just—I know I wasn’t any good at telling you what I was thinking before, when we were together. Know you had to, like, guess and shit most of the time. Don’t want to do that again. I still kind of hate you sometimes, but it’s—it doesn’t matter, compared to everything else. Just wanted to show you where I stand, you know, with us, I guess. What I want.” “Oh.” Ian stays quiet after that, only moving when Mickey hands the cigarette to him. “You gotta give me something here, man,” Mickey complains, after a solid five minutes go by of Ian just staring silently into the distance. “You gotta have something to say.” “Shit, sorry,” Ian says, with an awkward smile. “I’m just not very good at this.” Mickey guffaws at that. “Fuck you you’re not good at this. You were always the one running your mouth, saying what you felt every fucking second.” Ian rolls his eyes and knocks their shoulders together again. “I only seemed open in comparison to you, Mick,” he laughs. “Was never much better than you. My family will back me up on that.” “Fine,” Mickey grunts. “How ‘bout we start with whether or not you got a boyfriend?” “What? No, no boyfriend. You thought I had a boyfriend?” Mickey hopes the intense relief he feels at the confirmation doesn’t show on his face. “Okay. No, I don’t know. It’s just that Iggy said something about you having one, so—” “Jesus, fucking Lip,” Ian mutters. “Running his fucking mouth. I had a boyfriend for a while, but we broke up well before Thanksgiving. He was just lying again.” “Were you two still together during that, uh, last visit?” Mickey’s not sure why he asks. It doesn’t really matter, but he can’t help but think of the way Ian grinned at him when he asked about dinner. He wonders if he had misinterpreted it. Ian chews on his bottom lip, and Mickey knows the answer before he speaks. “Sort of, yeah,” he admits. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I probably should have, right? I just—I didn’t think you’d want to talk about that. We were on the rocks by then though. Didn’t last much longer. I keep your letters in my um—desk at my apartment, and he found them. Thought they were love letters and lost it.” “Seriously? Those things? I feel like I mostly talked about my cellmate’s farting habits.” “Oh yes, good old Danny. It was all very romantic.” Mickey can’t help but laugh. The letters might not have had any sappy declarations of love in them, but there was more to them, sitting underneath the surface. He might hate this mystery ex-boyfriend on principle, but the guy certainly wasn’t naïve. “He dump you for that?” “I dumped him. He did something I didn’t like.” “Yeah, that’s not vague at all.” Ian sighs, running a hand down his face. “It’s gonna sound stupid.” “Try me.” “Fine,” Ian groans, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “He's an art student.” “And how old was this art student?” “Oh, shut the fuck up.” Mickey snorts and kicks his boot against Ian’s. “Tell me he was at least eighteen.” “Of course he was, Jesus. Just let me tell the fucking story.” Mickey keeps laughing, but Ian presses on anyways. “He drew this picture of me. He did that a lot, actually. Liked my cheekbones or something. He made everything in black and white except for, like, one trait at a time—like just the eyes or hair would be in color, you know? After a while I told him about my disease. A few months later, the fucker tells me a picture he drew of me won some award. So I come to the showing, and there I am, hanging up and all in color, except my fucking brain."  “Shit.” “Drew that part in black. And there were, like, these hands with sharp nails and twisted faces drawn inside of it. Said it was supposed to be morbidly beautiful or something. Like he had any idea what he was talking about. Like he had any right. Didn’t even ask me, just hung it up there for everyone to see. Didn’t even get why I was pissed. Just wish he had fucking asked.” Mickey thinks of the holes in his walls. He thinks of the guy running his hands over them and laughing. “I’m sorry, Ian.” “It’s fine. I probably overreacted. I do that.” “You didn’t.” Ian glances over at him with a small smile. He reaches across the step and tugs at Mickey’s coat sleeve until Mickey relents and presses next to him again. Ian drapes his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, and Mickey lets him. “I’m scared I’m gonna fuck this up.” “Would we even still be us without one of us fucking up?” Mickey asks, tilting his head until it’s resting on Ian’s shoulder. “Don’t know,” Ian says. “Maybe we should hang out first though. So you can figure out if you even still like me. What do you think?” “Like a date?” “Yeah, like a date.” Mickey looks out past the fence. He remembers the MPs pulling Ian through it and shoving him into the back of their car. He remembers Sammi standing in the door, smirking down at them, as the car drove away with Ian trapped inside. They were going to go on their first date. They were going to be okay. And then it all just fell apart. Sammi isn’t here anymore though, and the MPs aren’t looking for Ian. His father is in jail. There isn’t a wedding ring on his finger. Maybe there are no monsters left to tear them apart. Maybe it’s just up to them now. “Yeah, whatever, we can do that. But you bring me flowers or some girly shit, and I’ll kick your ass." “No flowers. Noted.” After a long pause, Ian speaks again. “There’s a lot I still have to tell you.” “I know. Don’t gotta talk about it now.” “Okay,” Ian says. “You wanna go inside?” “Nah, look, you can actually kind of see the stars.” Mickey feels Ian shift and knows he’s looking up. “Well, would you look at that,” he sighs. “Wanna talk about our hopes and dreams?” “Fuck you, Ian,” Mickey laughs. “Let’s just stay out here for another minute, alright?” “Yeah, alright.” Ian lightly squeezes his shoulder. “Long as you want, Mick.”

Once the briefing was over and everyone had been reminded to pack their tooth brush, a joke Lestrade made every time before they left the HQ for a race that wasn’t on home turf, Anderson leaned over and nudged John’s arm. John turned around, expecting a snarky remark. Instead, his colleague looked a bit sheepish. “Is he alright?” he asked and John was gobsmacked for a moment. There were a lot of things he wanted to say to Anderson, but he figured that none of them were a good idea. “He is fit to drive, yes,” he finally said and rose, walking towards Sherlock, whose expression gave away how highly he thought of the notion of giving autographs to strangers for two hours. “I’ll forget about it, so please remind me when I have to be anywhere?” “I’m not your PA, Sherlock.” “Fine, I’ll have my phone remind me.” “What do you mean, forget?” John asked after a moment, realising that Sherlock didn’t fear to forget, which would have been absurd anyway, considering that he remembered everything to a degree that he believed some of his thoughts were memories. “I’ll delete the information so it won’t distract me.” “What are you talking about?” John nudged him towards the door. “My brain’s like a log book. What is important goes in there, and what I don’t need is thrown out. You note down the conditions of the race track, the weather, humidity, survival chances of the tyres, but you do not write down who is leading the music charts of the country the race is taking place in, nor how much a loaf of bread costs. It might come up in conversations or interviews or when you read up on the country you’re going to, but you don’t need that information for the race and the race is what’s important. So I’ll forget about Saturday.” “You can make yourself forget?” John asked, wanting to make sure that he understood what Sherlock was talking about. “I’ve taught myself to, yes.” “So you could, potentially, forget …” John leaned in closer and Sherlock stopped in his tracks. “I can’t. Not if … there’s an emotional component.” “So you can’t make yourself forget that first kiss?” “Oh,” Sherlock shook his head as if readjusting his thoughts. “I thought you were talking about Victor.” “Oh, no. I mean. God, maybe I should have, shouldn’t I? At least suggested that?” Sherlock bit his lip and started walking again, his strides longer now. “No, it’s fine.” John could see him smile and for the first time John believed that Victor’s visit really had had the desired effect. It was only when they were back in the office that Sherlock looked at John and sighed deeply. “I wish I could, but I don’t think I will. And maybe I don't really want to forget it after all. It’s a half memory, too many hormones in my system. I think I was in shock.” “I think I know how to fix that,” John smiled and sat down in his chair without explaining himself. Sherlock sighed again, this time much more dramatically and obviously with the single purpose of making John pay attention to him, but John stared at the screen of his computer and pretended to ignore Sherlock. Sherlock spent the better part of five minutes noisily doing nothing while John tried his hardest not to laugh at him. Eventually, Sherlock began to strip, which John noticed only when his shirt landed on his shoulder. He cursed at his own weakness when he turned around to watch him. Sherlock smirked when he dropped his trousers, but at least he kept on his underwear as he stepped into his fireproofs and then the suit. John chewed on his lip as he got dressed, and smiled absent-mindedly when Sherlock forced his curls under the balaclava before putting on his helmet. “I hate to tell you this, but you should get a bigger suit,” John told him when he climbed into the simulator. “You’ll sweat like a pig in this one.” “I’ll sweat in any suit, but it doesn’t matter. When I drive I concentrate on that and nothing else. Well, if I am not suddenly distracted, that is, though that was very unusual.” “Oh, great, I’m glad you’ll be concentrating on driving while you die of a heat stroke.” “We’re not in Dubai, John. We’re in Germany.” “Which is currently suffering from severely hot weather.” “Get me Hockenheim?” Sherlock asked, pointing at the computer. John sighed and entered the track, putting him down at pole and adding 40+°C in the shade, knowing that the programme would kill the tyres after a couple of laps. “Go ahead.” Sherlock concentrated on the screen, his body entirely still. At red lights out he shot forward, immediately taking the ideal line, pushing ahead of the simulated cars behind him. He pushed and pushed, cutting the corners almost too closely, going too fast before the motor had run hot enough, but for some reason, the numbers remained acceptable. After six laps, Sherlock led the pack by seven seconds and he began taking the laps a little less harshly. He took the ideal line, but didn’t push hard enough to gain any more time and instead drove constant lap times. After fifteen laps, the tyres showed severe abrasion and the motor ran dangerously hot. “You should come in for new tyres,” John suggested, but Sherlock ignored him. He took five more laps, pushing harder again, gaining another two seconds on the pack before he requested a stop. The computer took its time putting on new tyres and refilling his tank. John guessed that he wanted to come in again later in the race, but he doubted that the motor would make it. Half the field had overtaken him when Sherlock re-entered the track. John had started chewing on his lip and had to remind himself that this wasn’t a real race. Sherlock, like a shark, began shadowing the car in front of him, pulling close and pushing hard at the Hairpin. His opponent disappeared from sight before Sherlock found himself stuck behind two fighting cars. “Impress me,” John said, watching Sherlock closely. Sherlock rolled his shoulders and then pushed down on the accelerator. A few seconds later he drove so close to one of the cars that John felt the need to sit down. His tactic worked and the simulated driver closed the door on him, allowing the other driver to pass. The moment there was enough room on the track, Sherlock swerved left, then right and left again, letting himself fall back for a moment before he simply pushed on and managed to get past his first opponent on the Sachskurve. He overtook the second driver when he accelerated out of the Südkurve and all John could do was to shake his head and curse silently. Seeing Sherlock drive through the Motodrom gave him goosebumps. The noise would be unbelievable. It was the largest of the stadiums and therefore one of the favourite GPs of many drivers. John had always loved the idea that it was the fans that made a race special, not the track itself. However, Sherlock and crowds didn’t go well together, and yet he knew he would drag him out there and make him listen and possibly steal a kiss where nobody could see them, just for kicks. “John, stop it,” Sherlock complained from inside his helmet. “What, I’m not doing anything.” “You’re thinking, very loudly.” “You’re wearing a helmet, there’s no way …” “It’s distracting.” “What, me, thinking? Or me just being here?” John was almost sure that Sherlock was just making things up, but then again you could never know with Sherlock. “That, too, but not to the degree…,” Sherlock overtook another car, “that your thinking is distracting me.” John shook his head. “Fine, I’ll stop thinking.” “Good.” John walked over to the computer and checked the results. The motor was running very hot now and the new tyres were already beginning to blister. And yet Sherlock kept moving forward in the field, never quite safe in his manoeuvres, but always successful. The first warning came in lap 50. Sherlock had issues changing gears and the tyres were entirely run down. Sherlock requested a stop and took the car in, but John knew that he’d have issues now. He had overdone it. The car was filled up to half a tank, the tyres changed and Sherlock waited a few seconds after he had green light to go again. John had no idea what purpose it would serve to let five more cars pass, but he saw what Sherlock was doing when he came out. He had waited for the largest space between cars and could drive almost by himself for another five laps, going much more carefully than he had before. Seven cars went in for pit stops and fell in behind him and he was left with another six cars to overtake. John kept his eyes on the computer, fearing a loss of the motor or the gear box any minute now. And yet, Sherlock began his attack, carefully pulling close until he could pin himself to the opponent’s back using their slip stream, and then he waited for the perfect moment to attack. He managed to get ahead of four other cars that way, but even though he was third now, the two leading cars were more than four seconds ahead and the race would be over in three laps. Despite being almost sure that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to make it, he found that he was intensely hopeful nevertheless. With two laps to go, Sherlock tackled the first car ahead of him and as if my miracle, it was just then that they had to overtake a slower car. With an incredibly smooth move, Sherlock tricked the faster car into closing the track on the right, and he pushed straight ahead, placing himself between the two cars and coming out in front. “Fucking hell,” John cursed, pressing his left hand against his mouth to keep from saying anything else. The computer issued a serious warning concerning the tyres but Sherlock ignored it entirely and sped up once more. John could practically feel the tyres falling apart underneath him, and yet he pushed, lapping another slower car and finding himself behind the leading car. They only had half a lap to go when the computer began beeping loudly, warning of severe engine-heat and Sherlock simply put the car into a higher gear and continued. The Sachskurve saw Sherlock’s car grow unstable. He slid out too far and almost off the track, but he accelerated once more and set himself next to the other car a few yards before the finish line. A last change into a lower gear and another push and Sherlock was half a car length ahead of his opponent and won the race. Before he had reached the Nordkurve, his motor went up in flames. John rubbed his face, feeling slightly high with nerves and the shock of Sherlock’s precise performance. While he had doubted him, he was sure that he had planned this. It was John’s least favourite version of a successful race, but Sherlock had finished first and that was all he had said he would do. Sherlock climbed out of the car and took off his helmet and balaclava. He was sweating and had to wipe his eyes and forehead but he grinned at John as if he had performed a magic trick and had fooled everyone. “How the hell did you do that?” “I know that Lestrade would order me in before that would happen,” he pointed at the screen where the car was still burning on the track, “but I wanted to see if it was possible.” “How did you know how the cars would react?” “I forced them.” “How? It’s a computer.” “Algorithms,” Sherlock simply stated. “Not much different from narrowing down human reactions.” “Please don’t drive that way on Sunday?” “Why not?” “Because you might force reactions out of the cars that follow algorithms, but you can never know what happens when one of them panics or gets angry or simply makes a mistake.” “I’ve analysed the style of each driver. I know how they react.” “Sherlock,” John sighed and took the helmet out of his hands. “Please?” “I’ll just be myself,” Sherlock answered, avoiding John’s eyes. “If you have an accident and it’s your fault, I am out of this,” John warned, needing Sherlock to understand that he couldn’t really handle any purposefully reckless driving. Not yet. Sherlock stopped moving altogether. For a few moments he simply stood there, looking at a point to the right of John’s hip. Then his face fell and his eyes darted up to John’s face. “Out of what?” he asked flatly. “Not us, Sherlock,” John explained gently. “Never us. But I can’t do this,” he pointed at the helmet, “and know that you are taking unnecessary risks.” “Like scaling a wall to get to an open window to open a door?” Sherlock scrunched up his nose as if he knew what John was saying but still felt the need to challenge him. “Can you win this race with a different strategy?” John asked, putting the helmet down on his desk. “I think so.” “Then please, choose the locksmith instead of breaking in?” Sherlock sighed. “Please, Sherlock?” “Fine, yes. I’ll reconsider.” “Thank you.” “It wouldn’t be the same anyway, as your car is far superior to the simulator.” “Sherlock!” “I am merely stating …” John growled and stepped forward, half annoyed, half endeared with Sherlock, and Sherlock froze again, watching John’s approach with wide eyes. John stopped an inch away from his face, his eyes settling on Sherlock’s lips while he licked his own. Sherlock dropped his chin minutely, his lips parting slightly. John inhaled deeply and looked at his eyes. “You liked it,” Sherlock finally said when the tension between them grew unbearable and the only other option would have been to kiss John. John remained where he was, but he managed to force a frown onto his forehead even though he secretly agreed with Sherlock. “You were reckless and dangerously close to losing the car several times. You ignored the warnings and the recommended protocol proposed by me.” “Yes,” Sherlock said, a smirk pulling at the left corner of his mouth. “The car burned out, theoretically with you still in it.” “The computer generated car, yes.” “With you still in it.” “That’s why we wear fireproofs.” “You were putting yourself and your fellow drivers at risk.” “Yes.” “To show off?” “Maybe?” “I told you to, didn’t I?” John realised sheepishly and Sherlock’s carefully controlled expression melted into a smile. “I took some liberties with the interpretation as to how far that ‘impress me’ was meant to go.” “And I was impressed.” John admitted, closing the final distance between them and pressing his face against Sherlock’s chest. For a moment he resented that there were several layers of fabric between his face and Sherlock’s skin. “Just as I was impressed with you climbing up that blasted wall.” Sherlock chuckled quietly and pressed a kiss to John’s temple. “I didn’t mean to tell you that,” John continued, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s back and squeezing tightly. “I promised not to do it again,” Sherlock reminded him. “And I intend to keep that promise. It’s your loss that you won’t get to see me climbing walls naked anymore.” “I get to see you do other things naked, though,” John chuckled against the suit. “Speaking of, shouldn’t we start packing up?” “Certainly,” Sherlock agreed and kissed John’s head. “Now if you would only let go of me I am sure I could be of much more help …” “Aww, shut it,” John interrupted him and pulled back before grabbing Sherlock’s head with both hands and pulling him into a long kiss. To John’s surprise, Sherlock did nothing to end the kiss. Instead he simply held on, occasionally increasing the pressure around John’s back, and kissed him back enthusiastically. When John finally pulled back, Sherlock followed him and stole another kiss before John turned away from him, mostly for the sake of not being tempted to start all over again, and let his eyes wander through the room. “Alright, let’s do this,” John said, stretching carefully. He grabbed his laptop and placed it into his official McLaren messenger bag, adding his charger, external drive and headset. It always felt slightly strange for him to use his official bag, clearly marking him as part of the team, though he had never before wondered why that was. Meanwhile, Sherlock simply stood where John had left him standing and followed his movement with his eyes. “What’s wrong?” John asked when he had finished packing up. “Nothing,” Sherlock said, but he still stood in the middle of the room, unmoving. “Sherlock!” “I wasn’t done kissing you.” Sherlock complained, sounding like he felt quite sorry for himself. John put down his bag and walked up to him, burying his hands in Sherlock’s hair and pulling him into another kiss. Sherlock moaned quietly against his lips and John kissed him harder, feeling heat pooling in his stomach and groin. When Sherlock moaned louder, John pulled back. “Not here,” he clarified. “Be useful and pack your things and get dressed. I’ll go and find us a car to take us home.” He left Sherlock in his office, his trousers tight and his face flushed. Making sure to give Sherlock time to get ready, he passed by Lestrade’s office. He knocked, but didn’t hear a sound from inside, so he knocked again and then carefully opened the door. His boss had a pastry between his teeth while he tried to sort out some papers without getting sugar or grease on them. John tried hard not to laugh, but eventually it was Lestrade who dropped the papers, bit off a chunk of his pastry, chewed slowly and washed it down with a sip of tea before he chuckled. “Perfect timing, Watson,” he grinned. “What can I do for you?” “Actually, I was going to ask you that question.” “Oh, well, you could pass me one of those napkins,” he pointed at a stack of napkins next to a box of pastries. “Meant to share these, but then I forgot to eat lunch.” John handed him a couple of napkins and waited until Lestrade had wiped his fingers and his mouth. “Right. Erm. I was just wondering if there was anything else before we head home.” “Your honest opinion.” “What I said during the briefing.” “Why did you come then?” “Sherlock just took the track on the simulator with current conditions. He made it through, barely. Won the race, too. I had him start from pole, though.” “He’s unpredictable.” “Good or bad?” Lestrade sat down, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Both? Listen, John, this is an extraordinary situation. Nothing is planned, nothing long term in any case. We just do this weekend, then we do the counting. Decisions will have to be made, but for now, we see and learn. Had you asked me at the beginning of the season if I’d ever let him drive, I would have laughed at the suggestion. Now, not so much. But then again, he’s different now than he was then, and it’s difficult to say whether it’s long or short term. You’ve definitely been a good influence on him, but I need him to do it by himself, you understand? I need him to commit to it without you playing a role in that decision.” He looked at John with something like regret. “Same goes for you.” “Your offer still stands?” “To take him on instead of Kevin?” John nodded. "He's mentioned something earlier. I didn't know he wanted the seat." For some reason, Lestrade did not look surprised. “Yes. But he has to work for it. I need him to be committed.” “Even if I might not be?” Lestrade looked at him long and hard. “I don’t gather he will, without you.” “I don’t think I can, without him.” John admitted. “Let’s wait and see?” “I’m afraid he’ll not listen to us.” “That might be a problem.” “Or it might get him a second win.” “Which would still be a problem.” “So you’re saying that he can’t go rogue, no matter what.” “I am saying that if you or I tell him to do something, he is expected to do it, or he needs to propose a different strategy right away if it differs from our initial strategy and we need to approve before he goes through with it.” “So that’s what you want me to do? Make that clear to him?” “If you manage, chances are that he’ll be on the team. Long term, I mean.” “You’re the boss,” John nodded. He knew that Lestrade was right. If Sherlock decided to do his own thing, he would never be accepted by the team. “It’s not on you, you hear, John? It’s his decision, and he knows that it is.” John nodded. He knew he would blame himself if Sherlock acted out. He was too involved, emotionally and mentally, not to, but he understood his boss perfectly. Lestrade had done more for him and for Sherlock than any other racing team would have ever been willing to do for any of their drivers or mechanics. He knew that Lestrade did it because he liked him and he apparently liked Sherlock a great deal, too, more so than his strange relationship with Mycroft Holmes would justify. He had vouched for both of them and it had turned out to be good for the team, but the new race could turn it all around again. John realised that this GP would be much more important than Silverstone had been. He also knew that he needed to make love to Sherlock before talking to him about his responsibilities.

Lila's breath is shaky and uneven, she licked her lips to moisten them, her head turning to one side on her pillow as a soft moan escaped her lips. "Marinette.", Lila whispered softly, one of her hands groping her breast while her other hand worked fingers against the hot wetness between her legs, she huffed and puffed as she caressed herself with a growing urgency. She couldn't help but wish that it was Marinette's fingers between her legs and her hand groping her breast. She was home alone…again and for once, she was glad. She had been eager to get home, eager to leave school to take care of herself. The fire that was arousal between her legs had completely destroyed her panties, she was utterly soaked and sat through 3 periods of classes like that. Her mind not bothering to take in anything her teachers were saying or doing. All she could think about was Marinette, her and that lovely mouth of her, God, how Lila wondered what else Marinette could use that mouth of hers for. The girl was an excellent kisser and proved to be very passionate. Lila couldn't help but just think about her, not to mention her hair, she had that sexy 'ready to fuck' look to her after they got caught in the art room together. Lila chuckled softly between moans as she recalled the look on Marinette's face when Alya and surprisingly Chloé stomped over to them and yanked Marinette away from her, which didn't work the first time due to Marinette pulling her off the counter the moment hands grabbed the back of her sweater and pulled her back. Lila didn't sweat it, she knew Marinette wouldn't let her fall or let them get separated so easily. It took a scolding from Alya and another few yanks from Chloé before Marinette gave in and put her down. Lila was a bit peeved, but she did get what she wanted…her way. Marinette was clearly a bit upset at being caught, she was hesitant to follow Alya and Chloé out, but gave in under the pressure of both girls angrily forcing her to leave the art room. Only Adrien stood behind, the boy was suddenly as angry as the two girls. He didn't say anything, but it was clear by his expression that he was angry. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her the dirtiest look he's ever given her. Lila didn't care, she couldn't possibly give a shit about what he thought or Chloé thought. Alya however, while she didn't care about what she thought, Marinette did and if Alya could talk Marinette down from practically doing more indecent things to her right then and there in that classroom, than surely, Alya could talk Marinette into doing just about anything. And thus, right in the middle of touching herself Lila realizes something, her fingers caressing her clit and her other hand groping her breast, she realizes, Alya was becoming an obstacle. Marinette groans, a scowl on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from her very angry best friend, she sat on the floor beside her bed as Alya sat in her computer chair. "-Marinette! I'm being serious, if a teacher would have walked in instead of us, you and Lila would have been suspended, both of you would have been in trouble.", Alya said as she continued to lecture the clearly annoyed Dupain-Cheng. Marinette grumbled under her breath, her eyes averting Alya's own. Alya groaned in annoyance, irritated by what happened at school, it wasn't the fact that Marinette was getting frisky with someone, it was two other things, one, that she was getting frisky with a girl and two, the girl she was getting frisky with was Lila. The brunette sighed heavily and got up from the chair she'd been scolding Marinette from, her face softening ever so slightly as concern began to wash in, she walked to where Marinette sat and plopped down onto the floor beside her. "Marinette.", Alya breathed, more calmly, collecting herself. Marinette hummed, still facing away from Alya. Alya sighed again, she can see how nervous Marinette was, she can practically feel it. "Hey, look at me, please.", She said softly. Marinette sucked in a shaky breath and slowly turned to Alya, eyes slightly watery. "What?", she said weakly. Their eyes met. Alya felt her heart rate pick up slightly out of anxiousness, "You're my best friend Marinette and I love you to pieces.", she starts. Marinette's eyes drop slightly, flickering away from Alya's suddenly oh so very piercing gaze. "Mari, please, look at me.", Alya says, keeping her voice soft, knowing Marinette will listen to her. Marinette slowly lifts her eyes again, meeting Alya's own. A thick silence washes in between them, but only for a moment. Alya had questions and she was determined to get them, with finesse and sincerity of course. "You can talk to me, always, tell me things. That's what I'm here for, to support you.", Alya continued. A guilty look washed over Marinette's face. "How…how long?", Alya asked gently. "How long what?", Marinette whispered. "How long have you and Lila been together?", Alya asks, cutting to the chase, asking the burning question that has been floating around her mind since the moment she Chloé and Adrien walked in on Marinette and Lila getting cozy with each other. She knows she should also ask why Marinette hadn't brought up her interest in girls before, but she'd hold off on it for now. The Dupain-Cheng's cheeks flush a light pink, her shoulders shrug, "We're not together.", she says. Alya's expression falls disappointment washing in, did Marinette not trust her- "Lila came on to me…", Marinette said softly upon seeing the hurt flash across Alya's face. "I promise, we're not together…", she explains. The brunette raises an eyebrow rather sharply, "She came on to you? Like what? Did she ask you out? Or…", Alya trailed off. Marinette's blush intensified as she recalled everything, their argument turned…make out session. "Uh…she kissed me and well…um…I kissed her back and…we um, yeah.", Marinette barely managed to force her words out as she felt her throat tighten and her face further heat up. Alya couldn't help but feel her own face warm up slightly. "Oh…so…um…do you like her too? Are you two going to start dating now?", worry beginning to worm it's way into the back of her mind, worry because Lila wasn't always what she seemed, the girl had something up her sleeve and she was afraid, afraid of Marinette getting hurt again. Lila wouldn't just be playing with Marinette's mind, she would be playing with her heart. Marinette grimaced, she quickly snapped her gaze away from Alya's own, her head nodding. "You know I can't…I have responsibilities, I can't commit to someone while committed to being Ladybug…I have a commitment to my duties as Guardian. You know that." The hurt on Marinette's face is painfully obvious, she looks like she wants to cry and it hurt Alya to see Marinette so upset. She knew what Marinette meant, it was the reason why Marinette chose to let Adrien go, why Luka and Marinette broke up. Marinette just couldn't find the time to do the things girls their age normally did. It sucked. Still, Alya wanted to know- "Do you…like Lila?", she asks. The question feeling like the ripping off of a bandaid. "I do.", Marinette answered immediately, her eyes falling shut. She half expected relief to wash in at her admission, but it doesn't come, if anything, the weight of anxiety comes down even harder onto her shoulders. Alya tenses, feeling dread wash in for a moment, a bad feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. "Why?", she whispers suddenly, unable to bite her tongue. Marinette's eyes open, unshed tears glistening on her lashes, she returns her gaze back to Alya, it was easy to come up with the reasons why she liked Lila, why she allowed herself to fall into whatever it was Lila was playing at. "She makes me feel different…like…nothing is out of my reach." A single tear suddenly escaped one of the pools of deep sapphire, it rolled down Marinette's pink cheek. The brunette knew what Marinette meant, Lila had a way with words, she did, she had to admit that. Alya was worried from the beginning, deep down, she knew something was off the moment Lila began to do nice things for Marinette, knew that Lila had a reason for doing the things she did. Lila had been very suggestive and flirtatious with Marinette, but Alya wanted to continue watching from afar before coming to a conclusion, one that was oh so clearly right in front of her face, one she wanted to put off for as long as she could. "It's weird right? I hated her…she hated me and now suddenly she's all over me and I…I like that she's all over me, I like spending time with her, I like it when she gets all physical with me and…I just…like her…and I hate that I like her…", Marinette breathed, lips beginning to quiver, she shifted, bringing a hand up to her mouth as more and more tears began to escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks. These past two months have been a rollercoaster, she felt like she got whiplash a handful of times. Lila was out of her league, the brunette was beautiful, she was a model and she was wealthy and…she was someone that shouldn't be interested in her, so of course, Marinette was fretting, fretting because someone like Lila only had intentions of playing with her and it hurt to think about that. Alya fell silent, watching Marinette, unsure of what to say, afraid to say the wrong thing. "God.", Marinette breathed, "and when she kissed me I just…turned into putty, I was useless against her, I couldn't stop myself.", Marinette removes her hand from her mouth and runs it through her loose hair, "I wanted to stop myself from being alone with her, I knew I had to but I wanted to just…be next to her and today…I gave in." Marinette shook her head in disappointment, disappointed in herself for digging herself into a hole. And something told her she wouldn't find herself quite out of the hole she dug herself in quite easily. "We'll figure this out, I'll keep her away if you want.", Alya said as she scooted closer to Marinette, lifting an arm and gently wrapping it around Marinette's tense shoulders, pulling her closer for a comforting side hug. Marinette nodded her head, "No…I…don't want that.", she breathed. "Than?", Alya asked. "I don't know…just…let me handle it.", Marinette said as she turned away from Alya and leaned into Alya's side hug, a hug Alya shifted to turn into a full embrace, with both arms now wrapped around Marinette. "I don't want you to get hurt…Lila…she's a very special kind of evil, don't forget everything she's done, she turned everyone against you at one point…even me.", Alya reminded Marinette. But Marinette remained undeterred. "I'll be fine, Al. Just, let me handle this.", Marinette sighed as she closed her eyes and just relaxed into Alya's chest. Lila was horrible, but people change, certainly, Lila was capable of change…right?

 •°²²°• Punishment ─✵──────── The rich aroma of chocolate filled Taehyung's nostrils as he brought the large mug of steaming hot chocolate to his mouth. It was almost six in the morning and Taehyung had woken up early that morning to study. He was behind on his studies. He had made himself a hot chocolate and had sat down at the small table he had in his room, which was now stacked with books, stationery and art supplies, still in his pajamas. He was about to take a sip from his delicious hot chocolate when the door of his bedroom flew open. Taehyung jumped in his seat and whirled round to see who in the name of God would be awake at this time of the morning on a Sunday. It was Jeongguk. In all his sweatpants and tight T-shirt glory. Before Taehyung could question why the fuck he barged into his room, Jeongguk came towards the Taehyung and stood beside his table. "Taehyung," He said. Taehyung quirked an eyebrow at him. "I slept with Jieun last night" Taehyung was baffled. Something unknown stirred in his stomach. He gulped down the faint anger rising in his throat. "You had sex with your wife?" Taehyung wanted to laugh. What kind of a ridiculous question is that? Why was he feeling upset, though? He knew he isn't supposed to feel this way. It isn't fair to get angry and upset because Jeongguk has had sex with someone other than him. Especially when that other person is his wife. "You cheated on me" Not like they were in a relationship. "I'm sorry" Jeonnguk was not meeting Taehyung's eyes. "I didn't mean to-" "You told me not to hook up with other people and yet here you are..." Taehyung stood up from his chair. Something was riling up inside Taehyung's stomach and he couldn't fathom what that emotion was exactly. "You don't understand. I didn't even get hard! I had to think about you. I feel really guilty. Please believe me" Jeongguk, was practically begging at this point. The dude must really be feeling guilty. For both his wife and Taehyung. Taehyung would too if he had sex if another person. But if he was feeling guilty towards his wife, why on earth was he here? "Excuses excuses," Taehyung said nonchalantly. "I wouldn't have done it but if I said no to Jieun she would've suspected" Jeongguk was saying. Taehyung rolled his eyes. “We haven’t slept together in like months. Not after you came along” "On your knees" "W-What?" Jeongguk finally looked at Taehyung. His face was still puffy from sleep. His eyes were big with surprise. They shone beautifully as he stared at Taehyung. "I said, on your knees, professor" Jeongguk hesitated for a moment. Then he sank into his knees in front of Taehyung. "You've broken our rule," Taehyung said, "We weren't supposed to hook up with other people while we're together" "I'm sorry" "Your sorry doesn't cut it. Apologize properly" Jeongguk looked up at him with those big round doe eyes of his, swirling with confusion. Taehyung couldn't believe the man was 30 years old sometimes. He'd have passed for a mid-twenties guy with no effort. He looked young and innocent most of the time. But every other time, he'd look mature and all daddy-like. When Jeongguk blinked at him innocently and confused, Taehyung raised his eyebrows at him, prompting him to do what he has to do. So he did. Jeongguk raised his hands to the waistband of Taehyung's pajama bottoms and tugged them down to his knees. His cock sprang free for he wasn't wearing any underwear that night. He was half-hard already. Jeongguk glanced at his cock and then at Taehyung before wrapping his hands around it. Taehyung hissed as Jeongguk started to stroke it slowly. He pressed his thumb to the slit and added pressure there making Taehyung almost buckle his hips forward. In no time he was fully hard. Jeongguk continued to stroke him with one hand while the other caressed his balls. "Use your mouth, professor " Taehyung said, impatient. Jeongguk obeyed without delay. An electrifying wave of pleasure went up his spine the moment he felt wet heat around his cock. He let out a choked moan. Jeongguk took more and more of him in his mouth all the while bobbing his head up and down. Taehyung looked down at the man kneeling before him, Taehyung's cock in his mouth, looking up at Taehyung with his doe eyes now glassy as he sucked the living lights out of him. Fuck, Jeongguk looked angelic with his cock in his mouth. Taehyung brushed his finger on Jeongguk's bottom lip, smiling a little to himself upon seeing how adorable and beautiful he looked. Taehyung thrust into Jeongguk's mouth, unable to contain himself. His cock hit the back of Jeongguk's throat and he gagged a little. Taehyung took hold of Jeongguk's mass of raven curls in his hand, keeping his head in place, and started thrusting into his mouth. Taehyung gasped as wave after wave of pleasure shot through his body and he increased his pace. Jeongguk held Taehyung's thighs as he let himself be manhandled and have his mouth roughly fucked. A gagged moan escaped him every now and then. Taehyung let out a loud moan as he felt his climax right around the corner. He threw his head back and his thrusts became irregular; the grip on Jeongguk's hair tighter. Soon his orgasm ripped through his cock and he pumped his cum into Jeongguk's mouth. When Taehyung slowly pulled out of Jeongguk's mouth, gasping for breath as he tried to come down from his high, Jeongguk swallowed his cum like the good slut he was. "Hope you learned your lesson," Taehyung said, looking at the older man who was still on his knees, lips glistening with a mixture of cum and saliva. He wiped off his mouth with his hand. "If this is the punishment for cheating I'll cheat all the time" Jeongguk grinned. "Slut" Jeongguk's smile faded away. He stared up at Taehyung with those eyes as dark as oblivion, fires of lust and desire burned inside them. He knew what Jeongguk came here for. He wanted to fuck Taehyung until he forgot what fucking his wife ever felt like. He needed a better companion in bed. And that was what Taehyung's role in this relationship, was it not? "Let me fuck you please" Jeongguk whispered. Begged . Taehyung took a step towards the older man so that his flaccid cock was touching Jeongguk's face. "Sorry. I didn't hear you" Taehyung said as he took his cock in his hand. There was a bead of cum on its tip; some cum that Jeongguk had been unable to milk out earlier. "I want you. Please" Jeongguk said. Taehyung brought his cock towards Jeongguk's face and moved the tip against his face. Faint stripes of cum painted Jeongguk's face in its wake. Jeongguk closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Taehyung's cock against his face. "Strip and wait for me in the bed," Taehyung said and moved away from Jeongguk. The older was on his feet in seconds. He hurriedly took off his clothes while Taehyung went to the door, locked it, and stripped himself off of his pajamas. When he turned around, Jeongguk was laying on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard and legs spread so that his rock-hard cock was standing against his stomach, red and leaking. Taehyung could even see his hole. He gulped as he felt himself getting harder, arousal spreading through his body like wildfire. Jeongguk smirked. Taehyung didn't hesitate to take his sweet fucking time to walk to his nightstand and take out the small bottle of lube, despite being horny as fuck. He needed to punish Jeongguk. He needed to teach him a lesson. It was fucking unfair that it was he who has to abide by every one of Jeongguk's rules. If Taehyung can't hook up with other people, neither can Jeongguk. Especially not when he doesn't feel anything towards his wife. Taehyung climbed on top of the bed and knelt in front of Jeongguk. Jeongguk extended his hand towards Taehyung presumably asking for the lube to prep Taehyung. "I'll prep myself," Taehyung said and sat on the bed, legs spread revealing his pink fluttering hole. Jeongguk looked amused. Taehyung smirked, knowing that the older wouldn't be amused in a few minutes when Taehyung starts fingering himself. Taehyung squeezed a generous amount of lube into his fingers and spread it along three fingers. He circled one finger over his rim before pushing it in. He started fingering himself, legs wide open giving Jeongguk a good view. After thrusting a couple of times, he inserted another. He scissored himself open as he bit his lip, trying to control his moans. He threw his head back in pleasure and continued to fuck himself. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was dumbfounded, never having experienced anything like this in his life. His mouth had dropped open in surprise and arousal. The sight of Taehyung fucking himself in front of him was too much to take. Taehyung eyed Jeongguk as he stretched himself open. Jeongguk was running his hand all over his chest and around his pelvis, probably eager to touch himself. Taehyung saw him give up, hand slowly making its way toward his cock. "Don't touch yourself" Taehyung snapped and Jeonguk's hand flew away from his cock. Watching the scene unfold before him and not being able to do anything must be torture to Jeongguk. Taehyung smirked to himself, satisfied. "Please Taehyung" Jeongguk whined. "Let me fuck you" "Patience, professor" Taehyung's voice was smooth as honey. Jeongguk only whined in response. "Have you learned your lesson now?" Taehyung asked, voice wavering a little because his finger brushed his prostate. "Yes. Yes. I will never do that again" Jeongguk said hurriedly. Taehyung took his fingers out, a breathy moan escaping him as he did. "Good boy" He took sympathy on his professor and made his way towards him and straddled his lap. Jeongguk's hands held Taehyung's thin waist as he helped Taehyung move towards him. Taehyung did quick work of lubing up Jeongguk's cock before raising his hips and sinking down on Jeongguk's cock. Both men threw their heads back and moaned as Taehyung started sinking down. Taehyung held Jeongguk's shoulders for support and Jeongguk held him from his waist. When Taehyung finally bottomed out, they were gasping for breath. Taehyung buried his head in Jeongguk's neck, the pleasure too much to handle as he adjusted himself. Then he started moving. Jeongguk's cock brushed past Taehyung's prostate every time he rose and pushed down, delicious pleasure shooting up his spine. Jeongguk groaned against Taehyung's neck as the younger fucked himself on his cock. "A-ah Jeongguk-ah!" Taehyung moaned out, his voice muffled as he almost bit down on Jeongguk's shoulder. "Baby" Jeongguk rasped. He sucked a couple of hickeys on Taehyung's shoulder and neck as he slowly moved his lips towards his mouth. Then he started kissing Taehyung, rough and hard. It muffled up his moans and he continued to move his hips. Jeongguk swirled his tongue inside Taehyung's mouth, wet sounds echoing from the confined space of Taehyung's bedroom. Taehyung could feel heat pooling in his stomach. He needed to increase the speed because the shallow thrusts were less than enough to reach his climax. His thighs hurt and his pace faltered. Jeongguk flipped them over, upon noticing this. In a fraction of a second Taehyung was under Jeongguk's muscular and hot body and he was fucking Taehyung hard and fast. Their kiss broke for a second but Jeongguk soon connected their lips again as he thrust in and out of Taehyung at an animalistic speed, just the way Taehyung needed it. It was just right. A few thrusts later he was spurting White ribbons from his cock all over their chests, the long whiny moan he let out swallowed by Jeonggguk's mouth. Jeongguk followed soon after, biting down Taehyung's neck as he did. Jeongguk collapsed beside Taehyung. Both of them silently stared at the ceiling trying to regain their breaths and come down from their highs. Sex with Jeongguk was always an exhilarating experience that would leave Taehyung feeling an utmost bliss for a couple of hours. The morning had completely set in, Taehyung could see through the curtains. They'd been in there for more than one hour and Taehyung was supposed to study that morning! He didn't know why but Aria crossed his mind. Should he tell Jeongguk about what happened on the previous day? If he did, he'd have to tell Jeongguk about his past and he didn't think he was ready for that yet. Instead, "Aria's still after me" Jeongguk looked at Taehyung. And sighed exasperatedly. "What happened?" "We went to the store yesterday and apparently she hates me but also wants me to fake date her so she can show me off to her friends" "Damn," Jeongguk said. "And she told me not to tell you so don't tell her I told you this if you're going to do something about this" "Kids these days," Jeongguk said, shaking his head. "Just don't go near her, okay? I trust you. After so many warnings if she isn't backing up, I don't know if I could trust her on this case. I'll figure something out" Taehyung hummed. "Tae" Jeongguk said. "Yeah?" "You do understand that I'm preventing Aria from dating you for a lot of reasons and not just because I want to keep you all for myself, right? I mean you're too old for her and she's too young and it's high-key gross because we hooked up too" "Yeah of course. If her mom finds out I could be in some trouble…legally" Jeongguk nodded. "I just don't want her to end up like me" Taehyung looked at Jeongguk and saw his eyes twinkle beautifully. He looked so, so young at that moment. Taehyung's heart skipped a beat when Jeongguk flashed him a slight smile. He looked beautiful. Taehyung moved towards Jeongguk until their chests were touching and Jeongguk wrapped an arm around him. "She won't," Taehyung said. "Jieun wants to go on a date with me. I told her I'll try to make time after the exams. But there's a lot of work even afterward. Should I go?" Jeongguk said. "You're asking me?" Taehyung mused. Jeongguk nodded. "I don't know...I don't think you should give her hope if you don't love her. It's not fair. None of this is" "Are you feeling bad for her?" "Yeah. Don't you?" "I do," Jeongguk said. "I can divorce her but I can't. I want to stop cheating in her but I can't. I hate it" “Why can’t you divorce her?” Jeongguk shook his head. “Because if Aria. I don’t want her to get in the middle of relationship drama. It could be a messy process and she will suffer from it”  Taehyung understood. "Tell her the truth?" "Yeah like, what? Like oh hey Jieun I've been cheating on you for the last two months with a college boy I randomly met. Oh yeah, the same guy who you've been cooking and housing for the last two weeks " Jeongguk said. "Like that?" Taehyung rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying. I don't understand why you're still with her. She's a good person, she doesn't deserve this" "You seem to have had a lot of experiences like this" Jeongguk said. "W-what?" "I mean it's like you've made couples break up like this before. From the way you're telling me all this" Jeongguk said, grinning. Taehyung couldn't smile back. His heart was in his throat. He didn't want Jeongguk to know about his past life. Not just yet. "Come on," Jeongguk said, snuggling into Taehyung's side. "Jieun will be up soon. Let's cuddle for a while" Taehyuung gulped, the embrace not as comforting as it was on other days. He gulped down the fear that arose in his throat and buried his head in Jeongguk's shoulder and breathed him in. His scent of vanilla and musk was always so calming. He closed his eyes and let himself be cuddled.   Soon, the anxiety that made his heart heavy faded with the sound of Jeongguk’s heartbeat rhythmically tapping against his ribcage. In minutes, he was back in the moment, back in Jeongguk’s arms, wrapped around the warmth of him and his scent. It felt utterly peaceful and beautiful. He had never felt something like this before. So he closed his eyes yet again and listened to the heartbeat of Jeongguk and the way his breaths fell. He felt himself drift to sleep, the exhaust of the rough sex finally catching up to him. So he fell asleep in Jeongguk’s warmth, surrounded by all of Jeongguk. Feeling loved, for the first time in forever.

Lance’s POV  Right on the dot, at 5 pm Lance’s phone began to ring. He knew it was but he didn’t know how the conversation would go. Sometimes his dad was super chill, other times he mimicked his wife's anger and screamed, and sometimes he just said nothing. Lance didn’t know which version he preferred or wanted at this moment. He grabbed his phone, attempting to ignore the shake in his hands, and pressed answer. Keith was somewhere, Lance didn’t ask when he left and Lance held his breath as he brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, dad.”    “Lance.”    Not a good start. “Sorry I haven’t been calling every day. It’s taking some time to adjust.”    Silence.    “Do we need to shut off your phone?”    Lance swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ll be better at calling I swear. I just needed some time to adjust that’s all.”    More silence.    “Have you been partying?”   “N-not at all dad. Just classes and eating meals with friends. I go immediately back to my dorm to study.” Please believe me.    The line was so quiet anyone else may have thought the call dropped but Lance knew better. He had learned over the years to wait until they spoke. Wait until they decide what to do with him. “Okay, just call your mother every day, I don’t want to hear from your mother that you aren’t fulfilling the simple task we ask of you.”    “I will, I promise.” Lance felt sweat drip down his back.    “Okay. It’s not hard to make us proud Lance. Just…put some effort into what you do. I’ll talk to you another day.” The line went dead before Lance could even mumble a goodbye. The phone dropped on his bed and he hugged his knees to his chest, tears burned behind his eyes as his mind replayed his father's last words to him. Am I not trying enough?    Lance took some time to work on other work until about 5:45ish since he was going to meet Hunk and Pidge for dinner at 6 pm. He didn’t know if Keith was going to join them for dinner but he was admittedly still unsure about him joining for movie night. He wanted to give Keith the benefit of the doubt but his mood swings and random turn to downward emotion made him weary. Yes, Lance did like Keith, as a friend though (right?), so he wanted to spend more time with him.    “Hey.”    Lance looked at the open door and sent a small awkward wave at his roommate. “Hey, Keith. Did you already eat dinner?”    Keith shook his head, “did you?”   Lance shook his head, “I was about to head down to eat with Hunk and Pidge and I think Shay and Nyma will join as well. Did you want to eat with us or is that too many people?”    Keith paused, and Lance could see the debate flashing in his eyes. Poor dude, imagine being this worried about being around people. Lance was about to open his mouth to say they could just eat together but Keith cut him off.    “I think it’ll be okay. But if it gets too much I might have to leave or sit somewhere else.” There was a slight tint of red on Keith's face, awe he’s cute when he blushes.    Lance nodded at the information, “just let me know, I’ll even move to a table with you if you need.”    Keith met his eyes and gave the tiniest smile Lance had ever seen, “thanks.”    The walk down to the cafeteria was quiet and short. Neither of them said anything but Lance held a smile the entire time. He was excited, week one of classes were over, and what a more perfect night to end the day than a hang out with his friends and Keith. Lance still wasn’t sure if he could group Keith into his list of friends but maybe tonight would change something. They entered the cafeteria together, Lance sending a wave to Pidge and Hunk who waved back. “Wanna get our food before we sit down?”    Keith nodded, following Lance like a dog would. Lance could feel the heat from Keith as he dished up some food, trying to ignore the constant presence, and made his way towards Pidge and Hunk, sitting down next to Hunk, Pidge on the other side of the table. He sat his plate down on the table, sending a smile to his friends as Keith sat down next to him, his gaze at the ground.    “Hunk? Pidge? This is my roommate Keith. Keith,  Pidge, and Hunk.” Lance sat down at the table, Keith mimicking the motion.    “I know Hunk, well kinda,” Keith poked at his food with his spork and Hunk smiled.    “Yeah Lance I gave him a real scare that day,” he chuckled and Lance couldn’t help but join.    “I feel like I know you, Shiro never shut up about you,” Pidge spoke in a friendly manner, the words resembling more of friendly banter than any annoyance.    Keith managed to lock eyes with the glasses-wearing person, managing a very small smile. Lance cleared his throat, turning to Hunk in the process. “What movies do you have planned?”    “Oh I have a lot to choose from, and Pidge helped me get some totally legally,” he sent Lance a small wink. “But I have action movies like-”    Lance nodded along, he truly didn’t care what movie they watched. He tried to refocus on his friend, his mind wandering back to Keith who looked like he was listening more intently than Lance was.    “I like It’s Kind Of A Funny Story,” Keith looked a little flushed at speaking and seemed to shrink slightly under all of the eyes looking at him.    Hunk and Pidge both shared a wide smile and Lance blinked a couple of times, “what's that movie about?”    “It’s about a teenager who ends up going to the psych ward and he meets a girl who he ends up liking and the characters and story are super interesting,” Pidge said a couple of things but they fell silently on Lance’s ears.    Psych ward? Imagines flashed through his mind, crying, the bright lights that allowed no depth to anything, the white walls, white bedsheets, white everything, his parents yelling at him, having the bill shoved in his face time and time again, lying to be released. He closed his eyes, opening them to his plate full of food. “I'd rather not watch that.”    “What?! Come onnnn, is it because Keith chose it?” Pidge gave the tanner boy an eyebrow wiggle and Lance felt sweat on his skin.    “No, I just…don’t like romance movies.”    Hunk gave Lance a look, seeming to understand his friend's concern and he smiled at the other two members at the table. “Let's just wait till Nyma and Shay get here and we can all decide on a film we all want to watch.”    The group nodded in agreement and everyone went back to their plates, a silence covering the table. “Why is everyone so dead-like?” Nyma walked towards the table, her hand brushing Lance's back as she passed him to sit across from him.    “What?! No one died right??” Shay seemed a bit panicked as she slumped down between Nyma and Keith.    “No no no! We were just eating, how are you two?”    Lance could feel the heart's eyes from where he sat, smiling at how flustered Hunk got when Shay was around. He sent another glance at Keith, surprised to see him look relaxed, well relaxed in a Keith sense. He nodded along at Shays and Nyma's response to Hunks' question. Lance felt some anxiety when Shay turned to ask Keith a couple of questions, but Shay must have had some calming vibe because Keith didn’t seem stressed at all. That's good, he needs to make friends.   “Lance?” A hand waved in front of his face and he turned to look at the owner.    “Sorry?”    Nyma rolled her eyes in a friendly manner, “we were discussing movies, Pidge and I want to watch Spiderman: Homecoming. How do you feel about that?”    Lance grinned, he has seen that movie over 100 times but he still enjoyed it. “Tom Holland and Zendaya? Count me in,” Lance flashed a toothy grin at Nyma who was giggling in response, then it hit him. Did I just out myself? Nah that can pass as a joke, plenty of straight guys like Tom Holland.    The conversation moved through the table, everyone agreeing on what the film suggested and Lance finished up his plate, Pidge and Hunk discussed Spiderman headcanons. Keith was already done eating, sitting straight up, his arms folded across his chest, not really looking at anything particular.    “I still think Spiderman is a trans guy, either Andrew Garfield or Tom Hollands, like come on.” Pidge tapped the table a few times to get their point across to Hunk who was nodding along enthusiastically.    “Honestly it would be cool to see a trans superhero, my brother would freak out! He loves Spiderman.” Hunk fished for his phone, pulling up a photo of a mini version of him in a spiderman suit in front of a Homecoming poster. “This was my little bro's birthday and since he was pushed to having princess-themed birthday parties my mom said for this birthday they would do whatever he wanted.”    Lance swore he saw Keith perk up a bit, slight envy in his eyes as he stared at the picture of Hunk's brother. Ugh here comes another one of his moods, what did he never have a birthday party before?    “He looks happy,” Keith averted his gaze from the screen and Shay held it closer to her face, making remarks about how cute he was.    “Your turn Lance, what's your spiderman headcanon?” Pidge looked excited over their glasses, no one was leaving the table till they gave an opinion.    Lance paused for a moment, “umm I don’t know seeing trans Peter Parker would be cool. Maybe bisexual Ned? Or Miles Morales, I don’t know make someone gay.”    Pidge nodded, “would let people know they weren’t alone”   “Plus seeing movies with no queer representation is just unrealistic, almost everyone here I know isn’t straight or cis.” Shay paused, looking over the table, “And the cis straight people I know have been super supportive.”    “Wait wait wait, how many of us aren’t straight?” Nyma ran her hands through her hair, her eyes flashing to everyone at the table. “Pidge?”    Pidge shrugged, “I’m aro ace and nonbinary so there's that.”    Hunk went next, “umm I’m a cis guy and sexuality is a bit up in the air,” he glances at Lance, sharing a memory of when they dated briefly, “but I don’t want to label it. Who I like is who I like,” his gaze fell to Shay who blushed in response.    Lance realized they were waiting for him to go, “uh I’m bi? I think I guess I could be pansexual but I feel more comfortable with bisexuals. But for gender, I’m a guy? Sorry, I’m still new to all of the terms.”    Keith was up next and he squirmed a bit under the gaze, Shay opened her mouth to speak, maybe to say that we could skip Keith but he spoke before she did. “I’m gay and that's all I’ll say.”    Shay sent him a loving smile, “well I’m demisexual and romantic and while I’m okay with being called a girl, I also fluctuate between having no gender. The term I read was demi girl.”    Nyma was last, “damn we all do tend to stick together. I’m bisexual and identify as female. Nice to meet everyone.”    Everyone chuckled a bit, including Keith, and they all felt closer as people. After a bit more talking they all took care of their plates and headed up to Hunks and Pidge's dorm. Hunk had set up the room by setting a projector on the floor by his bed so the wall of Pidge's bed would reflect the movie. They had placed pillows and blankets on the ground so the people not on the bed could have some comfort. “Alright everyone shoes off! I have popcorn once the movie gets going. Pidge?”    Pidge nodded from their laptop, “we also got some soda and other snacks, courtesy of my brother.”    Everyone gave a small cheer in response and climbed into their positions. Hunk and Shay sat on the floor to the right of the projector. Pidge on the left side, a small robot sitting next to them. Nyma crawled onto the bed first, sitting next to the headboard, then Lance and Keith on the other side of him. His arm brushed against Nyma's bare skin and he felt his face go hot, Keith on the other hand put as much space as he could between them.    The movie started and everyone fell into silence, some quoting certain scenes where they appeared. Lance looked down at his best friend, smiling at how Shay laid her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her. Pidge continued working on her laptop as the movie played. Lance looked over at Keith who seemed to relax some, chuckling slightly at the humorous parts. He turned to look at Nyma who had moved slightly closer to him, their hands brushing against each other.    Lance couldn’t tell when it happened or how fast but before the end of the movie he had mimicked Hunk's posture, his arm around Nyma as she snuggled her head into his chest. Lance knew his heartbeat was loud and his skin was hot to the touch but she didn’t make any comment on it. They sat like that for a while, Lance using his slim fingers to comb through her hair gently.    Even when they put in the next spiderman movie they stayed in that position. The second movie brought them closer and Lance relished in the feeling. He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to spend time with someone like this. Maybe if they were alone he would try and kiss her.    The bed shifted slightly and before Lance could react Keith was out the door in a blur of motion. Everyone looked at him for an answer and he shrugged, “I told him he could leave if he got overwhelmed.”    Everyone nodded, their attention returning back to the movie, Nyma pulling him closer, “poor guy, I hope he feels safe soon.”    --- Keith's POV  Keith was admittedly confused. Emotionally and in reality, where the fuck am I? He facepalmed himself as he mentally kicked himself for not paying attention when they walked to Hunks and Pidge's room. God damnit! He felt the urge to hit something but refrained, his emotions were everywhere and heightened. He wished he could call Shiro or talk to him, he wished he was back in his bed, and he wished he never met Lance.    Wait? This was all his fault. Keith ground his teeth together as he walked down another hallway, searching for some form of an exit or Commander. He admittedly didn’t know what washed over him. He was fine, enjoying the movie, feeling proud for actually going, but Lance. It was always about Lance.    “Cadet Kogane, are you lost?” Allura called out for him as he turned another corner, stopping to turn back at her. She stood behind him in the hallway, a box in her arms that said CORAN on it. I wonder if that's the doctors that Thace mentioned.    Keith saluted, “Commander Altea!”    Allura gave him an at ease nod, “Keith, if it’s okay if I call you that, is everything okay? You seem flustered.”    Keith chewed his inner cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to let the pressure ground him. “I um, I don’t know how to get back to my dorm. I hate how confusing this place is.”    Allura nodded, “well I was heading towards my office, I can take you there if you'd like.”    Keith nodded and let her lead the way. He didn’t want to talk but Allura didn’t seem to mind the silent walk. After a couple of minutes, they arrived at an elevator, “do you need help the rest of the way, Keith?”    He looked around, finally something familiar, “No…I can manage.” He clicked the elevator, “thank you.”    Allura nodded and turned down in another direction. Keith nearly cheered when he finally unlocked the door to his dorm. Lance was still gone so he used the moment to lay out on his bed. He let his eyes wander the boring ceiling, what is wrong with me? His mind brought him back to not even half an hour ago, his chest tightening at seeing Lance and Nyma wrapped around each other. Am I…jealous?   Keith was no stranger to jealousy, he recognized a small flare-up when he saw that picture of Hunk's brother. If he was following Hunk correctly, that meant his brother might be trans. Not only did it already make his stomach stir but seeing him on his birthday, all smiley and happy, like he was the main focus; if he was trans he came out when he was so young.    Keith reflected back on his life, birthday parties didn’t exist for him until the Shiroganes. He wasn’t fussed over, he wasn’t told to make a list of present ideas, or asked what he wanted for dinner until the Shiroganes. But that wasn’t what hit him the hardest, Keith lived a lie for 15 years of his life. Lying to everyone around him, to himself. He tried to bury his identity, tried to live life as feminine as he could but just because you wish it away doesn’t mean it’ll stay hidden. But that kid, did Hunk even say his name? If he was trans he was able to live his life as a son, as a boy, as his true self, something Keith would never get for himself.    Hot liquid fell down his face and he wiped it away frantically. He tried not to get all worked up over not coming out sooner, it wasn’t safe to do and he didn’t understand the feeling until he was older. But he couldn’t go back in time and be a boy, that was taken from him when he was born in the wrong body.    Keith did his best to push back that feeling, pushing himself upright to start getting his pajamas on, his chest aching for a break. He knew he binded too long but he was so worried about meeting all these new people he forgot to switch over to a sports bra. As he got undressed, brushing his teeth his mind wandered back to Lance and Nyma. Why am I so upset over this? Lance and I are just becoming friends. That's all he is, right? Keith allowed his mind to indulge in the few memories of Lance.    The intensity of his eyes when he was being serious, the laid-back attitude he carried, his laugh and how it calmed him (even though he didn’t want to admit that just yet), his smooth skin, the ocean in his eyes, he wasn’t a dumb guy either, and the way he talked to everyone, so casual and relax, his attractive face and slim body, but he knew he had some muscles under those clothes. What, what did he look like if you just took the shirt away - Keith splashed cold water on his face, shaking his head at the thought. He exited the bathroom, dragging his laptop on the bed with him, giving it a moment to start up. I have a crush on Lance.    Keith opened up his video chat on his laptop, typing in the first number that came to his mind. The black screen twisted for a couple of seconds, a low sound of the call connecting filled the room and Keith reached for his headphones.    “Keith?! What a pleasant surprise,” His mom's face filled the screen and Keith felt some tears burn in his eyes, shit, I didn't realize how much I missed her.    “Hey mom,” he placed the laptop on the bed and hugged his knees to his chest.    “Oh, baby how are you?”    Keith nodded, “I’m okay, I miss you though…and dad.”    The woman nodded, “We miss you too baby, Takashi has been giving up updates as much as he can.”    An image of how tired and stressed Shiro looked before he left Keith earlier filled his mind, “he’s having a hard time, a commander got hurt.”    The woman frowned, “I’ll check on him before bedtime, Keith?” Keith looked at his mom, letting her familiar features calm him. “Keith baby, you’re crying.”    Keith wiped his eyes frantically, when did I?    “What's going on baby? Do I need to come get you? I can call Takashi to check on you,” her voice got more frantic and Keith shook his head a couple of times.    “Don’t call Takashi, he’s busy enough I just…” They both welcomed the silence and Keith sent a quick thanks to whatever God gave him a foster mom like her. “Have you ever had a crush?” Stupid she’s married of course she has had a crush.    The woman smiled, readjusting herself from where she sat in her home. “I’ve had a couple, remember that your father and I married when I was in my mid-20s so I had dated others before him. Keith, are you crushing on someone?”    Keith felt his ears burn with embarrassment, “suppose I hypothetically had a crush on someone, what should I do about it?”    His mother gave a small chuckle, “well it all depends, do you know if they like you back?”    The image of Lance and Nyma cuddling filled his mind and he felt his breath get caught in his throat. “He…he doesn’t.”    The woman frowned, “Oh baby I’m sorry. I know how bad it can hurt.”    Keith ran his finger through his hair, “I don’t understand, I’ve known him for a week and I just realized how much I like him. Isn’t that too fast?” He could feel his heartbeat picking up as he rambled.    His mother took some time to think, taking a sip from a mug that sat off-screen. “Not necessarily. Dating I would say yes but you’re meeting new people and are finding people that you are attracted to. I would just take it slow, maybe it’s a week-long crush, maybe it’s more, you just have to go with the flow.”    Keith groaned into his knees, “he doesn’t even know.” His voice was muffled so he wasn’t surprised when he had to pick up his head to restate his comment.    “About the crush?”    “Well, that but he doesn’t know I’m trans. I haven’t told anyone here.”    “I see”   Silence again and Keith felt his eyes burn again, stop crying.    “Keith? You have every right to not tell anyone about your identity, you don’t owe anyone that information but,” she gazed down at her keyboard, “if you feel like telling people about it that's a you call. If you end up finding a boyfriend at the Garrison I hope to meet him, but even then that’s on you if you want to tell them.”    Keith nodded, “I want to tell some people, I feel like I’m living a lie.”    She shook her head, “you are living as Keith, living as the boy who was put in an unfortunate position.”    “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”    She smiled warmly, a male voice appearing in the background, “oh honey Keith’s on the phone…laptop? Just say hi.” The laptop was shoved in the older man's face and Keith couldn’t help but laugh.    They talked for about an hour more before Keith said he needed to do some homework, which was his intention but he ended up staring at the ceiling again, in the darkroom. Every time he closed his eyes he thought of Lance and then Nyma. A memory of Lance confiding in him about his relationships. Keith sighed and rolled over to face the wall, he’ll be happier dating a girl. Keith felt sleep tugging at his body and he let it take him, dried tears on his cheeks.    Keith was vaguely aware of the door opening a bit later, shuffling filling the quiet space but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head or open his eyes. A part of him wanted to sit up and apologize for leaving so suddenly but his body felt like it was made of lead so he kept still.    After a couple of minutes, he heard the other bed sink under its occupant's weight and he let himself drift off again, dreaming of the same boy who unintentionally made him cry.    --- Lance’s POV  Lance felt like he was on top of the world. He felt like he could still feel the weight of Nyma in his arms, her soft breathing as she fell asleep on him, her sweet flowery smell staying on his clothes as a reminder of their time together.    His cheeks hurt as he walked down the halls, the constant smiling on his face. He didn’t want the night to end, but even his eyes began to droop towards the end of the second movie, and Shay and Nyma both made their way back to their dorm. He ended up staying only a bit longer to play a round of Mario Cart before he officially made his way back to his room. He wasn’t surprised to see Keith already tucked in his bed, dead to the world. Lance felt his stomach drop slightly at the memory of him leaving suddenly but that would have to wait until morning.    Lance crawled into his bed, letting the lingering smell of Nyma put him to sleep.    Lance didn’t have to be anywhere on Saturday so he slept as long as he wanted, which was about 11 am. He woke up slowly, allowing his body to adjust to being conscious and his eyes adjusted to the warm light that shined through the window. He pulled the blankets closer to his body and stretched his legs out, enjoying the slight burn that followed. He rolled over to grab his phone, maybe he had a missing text from Nyma. His eyes landed on a perfectly made bed with red bed sheets. Everything is always so perfect with him, isn’t it? Lance scrolled through his phone, his stomach twisting at the lack of messages from Nyma. Should I message her? Is that too clingy?    “I'm tired of you babying me, just leave me alone Shiro!,” Keith pushed through the door with a vengeance, his eyes filled with anger. Lance snapped his head through the door, his heart pounding at the sudden noise and negative emotion.    “Keith, stop pushing people out. We talked about this.” Shiro stood in the doorway, resembling someone who hasn't slept in a couple of nights. Damn, he looks bad.    “Just go away. I don’t want to talk to you, mom or dad, or whoever you’re going to send my way!” Keith slammed the door and the room fell into a very uncomfortable silence.    Lance thought that Shiro would knock or maybe break the door down but no noise appeared on the other side and Keith finally turned around, his posture still tense. Lance thought about closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep but before he could even entertain the thought before Keith's eyes locked with his.    Lance watched his posture break for a second, a flicker of regret flashed in his eyes but it was quickly hidden through more anger. Lance wanted to ask if everything was okay but Keith began moving through the room, grabbing various things and a bag. Lance sat up from his bed, his eyes following his roommates' hands. “What…where are you going?”    Keith gave him a quick glance, mumbling something under his breath. “I just need to go for the day. You never saw me leave.”    Lance blinked, “we’re not allowed off base.”    “God I know that I’m not an idiot.” Keith zipped up the bag he was throwing things in.    Lance felt like he had been slapped and he lowered his head, “sorry.”    Keith paused, his eyes closed in thought. “Sorry, I’m taking my anger out on you.” Lance watched him stare down at the bag in his hands before he set it down on the bed, his hands shaking in fists at his sides.    Lance wasn’t sure what he should do, should he approach him? Give him a hug? A crisp high five? Should he just not say anything? Lance averted his gaze to his own bedsheets, his hands trembling slightly. It wasn’t out of fear, Lance didn’t think Keith would hurt him but his mind was beginning to flicker through memories of his parents; of the calm before the storm.    Lance felt tears burn in his eyes and he rubbed them away quickly, come on don’t do this now. Keith sat on his bed, keeping his gaze towards the ground, his shoulders slumped. Lance knew that stance, it was a stance of regret and defeat, he pushed his emotions aside, telling himself he would deal with them later.    “Keith?”    It took a few moments for Keith to acknowledge what he said, but only with a soft “what?”    Lance swallowed the small amount of spit in his mouth, “you don’t have to tell me what’s going on but you seem…not okay and I don’t want to pry but.” He paused, trying to pick the next words carefully. “If I can help at all just let me know. Even if you just want someone to sit next to in silence, I can do that.” Lance picked at the flesh around his fingers, stopping when he realized what he was doing, “just don’t leave.”    They both sat in silence, their breathing matching each other unintentionally. Lance felt his palms get sweaty as he anticipated his roommate's response. He’s probably pissed at me. I overstepped a line I just know I did. He chewed on his inner cheek, ignoring how the flesh burned at the motion. Shit, I should just go, he probably wants to be alone and I’m just in the way, stupid Lance! Lance felt his limbs tremble as he quickly decided his next moves. Flip the blankets off, take a couple of steps to the bathroom, take care of this ‘itch’, shower, get dressed, and wander the halls until bedtime. Just as Lance was about to set his plan in motion Keith broke the silence.    “Can we just, I don’t know, sit by each other.” His face seemed redder than normal but Lance brushed it off as him being flustered with anger.    Lance nodded, swinging his legs over off the bed, the sheets still pooling around his waist and he patted the spot to his right. He placed his phone on his desk face down, he didn’t want to be distracted in this moment of vulnerability. Keith moved slowly, almost hesitantly as he sat on the blue bed sheets; keeping a bit of distance between both of them. Lance kept his gaze towards the ground, ignoring how his own heartbeat sped up at Keith's presence. I’m not scared of him, right?    The silence was painful and Lance fought the urge to tap his foot on the closet surface or his fingers on the bed or anything. He didn’t want to risk making the other boy more annoyed or upset so he forced his limbs to stay still.    “I’m sorry for snapping earlier.”    Lance almost didn’t hear what was said, he thought he imagined it until he saw Keith looking at him with sad eyes. He felt his heart shatter at the sight and fought the urge to pull him into a hug. But Lance knew that look, he had worn it on his face for years, the look of being lost, being so upset with yourself that nothing matters anymore, the look of hurting someone you care about. Lance could admit that Keith cared about him but only on a friendly roommate level, nothing more, nothing deeper. “It’s okay Keith, please don’t worry about it.”    Keith shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes. “I can’t just not worry about it. I was a dick…again and I’m sorry.”    Lance swallowed around the lump in his throat, “seriously man it’s fine. I’m used to it.” Shit, he didn’t mean to say that.    Keith looked like he wanted to pull him in for a hug but he didn’t move, his arms only twitching upward for a second. “You shouldn’t be.”    Lance wasn’t sure what to say, he never talked about his family except with Hunk. Lance knew his parents were good people, they were good parents but when it came to him they never seemed to know how to act around him. But they were still good people, Lance was the one that needed to be better. He realized Keith was waiting for a response of some sort so he shrugged his shoulders.    Keith's eyes fell again, “whoever made you feel like this, they’re shit I hope you know that.”    The burning feeling was back and Lance absentmindedly returned to picking at his fingers, he was not going to cry in front of Keith. Who was the last person to be this nice to him besides Hunk? Not nice in a friendly manner but nice in a consideration of his feelings. His mind swam with confusion, what did being around Keith make him feel drunk in a sense? Pale fingers were placed over his own and his hand was pushed gently downward.    “You’re going to make yourself bleed if you do that anymore.” Keith wasn’t looking at him, instead of staring at their hands together. His gaze was intense in a soft way if that was even possible like Keith was trying to memorize this moment or solve a problem.    Lance separated his hands under Keith's, but he didn’t pull away, his heart beating in his throat. “I was zoned out, didn’t realize what I was doing.” His voice was light barely above a whisper and Keith finally met his eyes. The miniature galaxies swam in Lance’s vision and he felt his face grow hot at the realization of how close they were to each other; Keith had moved closer when he reached over to Lance.    If Keith was bothered by the close proximity he didn’t let it show on his face. “You’re going to be okay Lance, I know you will be.”    Lance wasn’t sure what prompted Keith to say that but those words broke the floodgates that he was trying so hard to keep at bay. Before he could even turn his head away or come up with a lame excuse to get off the bed his face was streaked with tears. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything or even wipe his face. Keith met his gaze with almost sad eyes and he pulled his hand away, Lance was surprised at how much he missed the heat of his hand.    Keith looked a bit uncomfortable and his hands opened and closed a couple of times. His face held a look of thinking as if he was weighing multiple options and Lance finally raised his left hand to wipe his face with his sleeve, not even phased at the pain from his cuts.    “Did you…want a hug?” Keith sounded unsure about what he was saying and Lance went to shake his head no. He wanted a hug, he really did and he was sure Keith gave strong hugs but he wasn’t going to push him to do that, he would just have to get one from Hunk later. But somehow, maybe it was a weird twist of the universe or Lance was letting his subconscious take control he said yes.    Strong arms wrapped around him and Lance almost melted into the touch, lifting his left arm up to give an awkward hug back due to how they were sitting. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest and he thought he could faintly hear Keith's as well. The tears didn’t stop falling and Lance fought back a couple of hiccups. Am I really going to be okay? He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall more into the embrace, I’m too broken to be fixed at this point.    Keith mumbled something from where his head was pushed against his shoulder but Lance couldn’t make out what was said. Eventually, through some deep breathing, Keith’s mumbled words of encouragement, and Lance letting the pressure of physical contact ground him he stopped crying. His body eventually stopped shaking and the whimpers went away and he felt calmer. Keith eventually pulled away, and Lance almost reached out to pull him back in but refrained. They stared at each other, neither of them seeming to be able to look away and Lance felt his face burn hot again. Their heads were still relatively close, the pressure from the hug still lingering and Lance couldn’t faintly smell the spice from Keith's soap. His heart rate did not slow down and Lance held his breath.    Keith opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a phone vibrating loudly on the desk. Lance pulled away quickly, not noticing how Keith’s face dropped, and reached for his phone. Nyma's contact appeared on the screen and Lance gave a quick glance at Keith, “sorry it’s Nyma, I have to take this.”    Keith's face hardened and he slid off the bed, not looking at Lance, “don’t let me interrupt you.” He grabbed his laptop and headphones, making sure his keys were in his pocket before going to the door and walking out with almost the same amount of anger as he entered earlier.    Lance wasn’t sure what to think and he answered the call with the peppiest voice he could muster. “Hey Nyma, what's up?”    “Lanceeeeeeeee, I just woke up but would you be interested in getting lunch together? Just the two of us?”    Lance’s heart jumped back into his throat, his face heating up more, but not as much as earlier. “I would really like that.”    Nyma giggled and Lance tried to memorize the sound, “there's a café in the North wing open to cadets on the weekend, let's meet there in an hour okay?”    Lance nodded, “okay sure, see you then.” The call ended and Lance leaned back in his bed, the faint smell of Keith overpowering Nyma’s.    --- Keith’s POV  Keith stormed through the hallways, letting his legs decide where to go. He felt like he was about to cry, he felt stupid. How could he forget his place in Lance’s life, he wasn’t his lover, he didn’t share the same feelings as Keith, and he didn’t feel the same tension Keith felt. Would he have leaned in and kissed Lance? Even he didn’t know. All Keith knew is that all he could hear was his own heartbeat and the air between them was tight. But maybe he was reading the situation wrong? What if Lance didn’t see the moment as intimate?    Damnit! Keith wanted to kick the closest thing to him and before he could think he swung his leg towards the door to his left. But he didn’t hit wood, in fact, he hit more air and stumbled a bit.    “Allura, we have a draft in the hallway.” Ethan stood in the now open door and as Keith straightened himself up and made eye contact with Allura who was sitting at her own desk, a very confused look on her face.    “Uh, Keith?” Her voice held concern, and her face mimicked that of confusion.    Keith felt his own words get stuck in his mouth, his mouth hung open as he tried to come up with an excuse to almost kicking a commander's door.    “I said it was a draft, not a cadet, jeez Allura get your ears checked,” Ethan stepped forward, his cane gently smacking into Keith's foot and he frowned. “Allura the draft has feet.”    Allura stood from her desk and marched over to the door. “Ethan there is a cadet in front of you, now will you please step out of the way.” She gave her co-worker a friendly shove, bringing her attention to the cadet in front of her. “Cadet Kogane, your brother…Commander Shirogane is out at the moment, can I help you with something?”    “Drop the professionalism Keith’s chill,” Ethan stood tall, his cane handle between his two hands.    Allura looked like she wanted to smack him but refrained. “Thank you, Ethan.”    Keith still couldn't make any words come out of his mouth, his throat closing up with the attention he was receiving. Allura looked at him like she was his big sister and opened her mouth to say something but Ethan interjected with an energetic response.    “Keith! You’re early, or I lost track of time with Allura. Come on, my office is this way,” Ethan gestured to a door across the hall and Keith turned to follow him and he tapped the cane around the ground. Just as Keith was stepping through the door, the office was not a disaster this time, a woman's voice appeared down the hall and Ethan shut the door quickly. “If someone knocks don’t make a sound or answer it,” his voice was a whisper and Keith held his breath in suspense.    Sure enough, a loud knock landed on the other side of the door, knocking every couple of seconds until the footsteps loudly walked away. Ethan visibly relaxed at the lack of presence and made his way to his chair, “Keith Keith Keith, the best advice I can give you is learning that woman's walk and avoid her at all cost.”    Keith tilted his head slightly, “who's?”    “The admiral, she will make your life a living hell,” Ethan reached for a pen on his desk, absentmindedly twirling it between his fingers. “Feel free to sit down or leave if the coast is clear. Allura is too nice to not answer the door and you would have been chewed out if she saw you there without an official appointment.”    Keith didn’t move, he felt like his legs were made out of cement and he gripped his computer tighter. He knew he should respond but he also didn’t want to stop crying or scream at anyone.    Ethan felt the hesitation and frowned slightly, “what can I do for you? I can feel your stress from here.”    Keith didn’t know what to say, he wanted to say something but his emotions were on the verge of spilling over so he bit his lip. Shit, why am I like this? Over a boy really? Ethan didn’t pry anymore, seeming to understand that Keith just needed space. He busied himself with some paperwork, his hands moving over the surface with ease and Keith eventually forced himself to sit on one of the chairs, his hands shaking slightly. He felt himself slipping, all he wanted to do was scream or cry or both. Maybe both. His skin began to hurt due to the stress he found himself under and he was lost. Shiro was off the table and their…conversation this morning, he couldn’t be with Lance or even Hunk, and he couldn’t bring himself to be confined in Ethan, what if he told Shiro?    After about 10 minutes of silence, the only sound was paper moving across the wooden desk and Ethan paused his hands. “Keith, would you like to talk to a professional? Like a counselor?”    “I um….I don’t have an appointment.”     Ethan waved his hand in dismissal, “none needed, I got someone who could talk to you right now. I don’t mean to pry but maybe talking to a stranger would be more helpful than trying to talk to people you have relationships with.”    Keith nodded, he had been forced into counseling while he was in the system and didn't have the best experiences with them but Ethan was right. Someone who didn’t know Keith might be better to cry in front of instead of someone he knew. “Sure.”   Ethan smiled and dialed a number on the phone on his desk, raising it to his ear with a smile. “Coran Coran the gorgeous man, how you doing?”    Keith couldn’t hear the man on the other side of the phone but he watched as Ethan grinned even wider at whatever was being said. Ah, I figured I would eventually meet him. “Oh geez, I can’t wait to catch up with you. Hey, are you busy? I know you had to deal with some intense paperwork after the accident but I have a cadet that could use some help and professional support.”    A couple more “yeah” and “uh-huh” filled the space and Ethan smiled one more time. “Great, I'll send him down, thank you!” He set the phone down on the receiver and stood from his desk, grabbing his cane from where it was propped against his desk. “Okay, Keith if you want to follow me I’ll take you to his office.” He made his way to the door, waiting for Keith to indicate he was ready before he stepped out of his office, his cane making light taps on the floor.    Keith matched his pace with the commander, pausing when they reached an elevator he had never been on.   Ethan typed in a code on the keypad and the elevator opened with a soft ding. They entered the elevator and moved downward. “Try not to be nervous, Coran is a good guy." The door opened and Ethan stepped out. The hallway was colorful, posters about mental health hung everywhere, a sign above a door that said: “QUIET ROOM” and a couple of other signs indicating other staff members. They stopped at the last door on the left, Ethan checking the braille.    “Okay Keith, I took you through the back way so have Coran show you the ‘cadet’ way out.” He knocked on the door and a cheery voice sounded through the other side. “If you need anything my office is always open as long as I’m on campus and not in a class.” Ethan fumbled for Keith's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze as the door swung open.    “Ah you must be the cadet Commander Wright told me about,” the man reached up and twirled the tip of his mustache with his right hand.    Keith gave a stiff nod, taking a moment to look at the man in front of him. He was taller than Keith, wearing black shiny shoes, black dress pants, and a light blue button-up. His hair was bright orange and his mustache was styled in a certain way. Keith made note of blue marks under his eyes, just like Allura and the two staff members at the infirmary.    The man dropped his arm and stepped aside, motioning for the younger boy to enter his office, pausing to mumble something to Ethan before closing the door. “Sit if you want,” he clasped his hands together and walked towards his desk, “my name is Dr. Altea but please just call me Coran. I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”    Keith sat on the edge of the couch in the room, setting his laptop and headphones down to the left of him. He felt the desire to fidget and grabbed the closest thing he could hold in his hand on the coffee desk in front of him. He didn’t know what the object was but it was squishy and malleable so he let his hands move it around. “Keith.”    Coran smiled, “nice to meet you, Keith,” he opened a notebook and wrote something down, “do you mind if I ask you some demographics? These would usually be on the form you fill out while waiting but since you’re in a special case I can ask them now.”    Keith frowned, a special case. I’m always a special case.    “Keith?”    He looked up at the older man, finally meeting his eyes. “Sure.”    “Perfect, first, what's your gender identity and pronouns?”    “I’m a guy and I use he/him.”    Another smile from Coran, “any suicidal thoughts? Thoughts of hurting others or thoughts of running away?”    Keith thought back to this morning, shoving the closet bag he could grab full of his personal belongings; every intention to run. “No to all.”    “How many hours of sleep do you get on average?”    Keith shrugged, “like 7 or 8. Kinda depends.”    More writing, “any medication?”    Keith paused, “like in general or mental related?”    “General.”    “Testosterone.”    Coran nodded, “do you have an appetite?”   “Yes.”    “Anddddd are you psychically active?”    Keith nodded.    Coran closed the notebook, “well Keith I guess the question is, why are you here?”    Keith looked at his hands, letting the toy move between his fingers. “Today has been a bad day.” Keith mentally sighed, he had gone through this routine over and over again, year after year, appointment after appointment, he was numb to them.    “How so?”    Keith filled his lungs before exhaling it all out. At least he wasn’t on the verge of crying anymore. “My brother, he’s a commander here, Takashi Shirogane. He’s honestly my biggest supporter and friend…he really took me in when I was placed at the Shirogane's house when I was 12. But today I just…..I was upset and blew upon him.” Keith paused, trying to collect his thoughts.    Coran broke the silence, “do you want to talk about why you were upset?”    He nodded, “I like someone, more than I think I should. We hung out last night with other….people and I had to see them just gush over someone else and it made me feel shitty.”    “Unrequited feelings?”    “Yeah. Shiro tried to get me to open up this morning cause I went to sleep crying but I was upset and I told him to leave me alone. But Shiro is under his own stress with something at work and he kinda blew up on me as well.” That burning feeling was back and Keith wiped his eyes, “he didn’t say anything bad about me but he said that people won’t always be patient with me and I need to learn to work through my emotions instead of being so heightened with them.” He twisted the toy in his hand a couple more times. “I told him to leave me alone and slammed the door on him and my roommate heard all of it or at least that.”    Coran nodded, his hand returning to his mustache. “Have you spoken to your brother since this morning?”    Keith shook his head no, he wasn’t ready to look at him yet. “I feel like such a shitty person. I’m always blowing up on people without thinking.”    “Keith, I know your brother, and while I’m going to make sure I keep my relationship with him out of this mini session we’re having I can say that he is an understanding person. As you said yourself, he is dealing with something himself and stress breaks us down in certain ways. Maybe some time apart to cool down would be good for you two before you try and have a rational conversation.” He paused, taking a sip from a glass on his desk. “However, there is a good side to this situation. You can always learn to handle your emotions and build that skill.”    Keith lifted his head and blinked, he hadn’t really thought about it in that way before. “How?”    Coran sat back in his chair, “there are a lot of coping mechanisms. Some people write others run, some medicate or just focus on deep breathing, others do more intense physical activities such as boxing, but more importantly, it’s about developing the ability to pause for a moment.”    “I always apologize afterward but in that moment it’s like I can control myself at all.”    Coran nodded, “you’ve identified the issue and that is the first step. I know someone who has set up code words with their colleagues to set boundaries.”    Keith tilted his head, “how so?”    “Hmmm for example the phrase ‘it’s windy outside’ means ‘this conversation is getting out of hand and we need to take a break,’ and ‘tropical heat’ means ‘you’re starting to yell and I need you to calm down.’ It may sound silly but it works for them.” Coran leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands on the desk. “They also have hand motions they use, a palm up and then flipped down means it needs to end and so on.”    Keith sunk back into the couch, letting the cushions surround him. “It seems hard to remember at the moment.”    Coran nodded, “it can be but that’s why we practice.”    They sat in silence a bit longer, Keith gazing at the floor, his mind racing, debating if he should ask a question regarding this morning. He didn't even have time to process it until now, since he calmed down “Coran?”    “Yes, my boy?”    Keith couldn’t help but smile at the name, usually, he wouldn’t be okay with random people calling him that but Coran had uncle energy. But just as quickly as the smile formed on his face it melted away. “I know someone who is struggling and I don’t know how to help.”    “Hmmmm are you asking for advice on how to help?”    Yes, “I think so.”    Coran nodded, “I can offer what I think but help is usually only good if the person wants it. What is this person struggling with?”    Keith felt his mouth go dry, he needed to ask, he needed to learn how to help them. “How do you help someone who is hurting themselves? Like on purpose?”

*1: In Love and Lust* Elon's phone vibrated on his wooden desk, loud enough to briefly distract his colleagues from their computers. He picked it up and saw that Nadia had messaged him. After making sure his colleages were focused back on their screens, he opened Nadia's message: a selfshot of her in a red bikini. A pang of lust shot through him. Even after being married for 2 years, Nadia still managed to turn him on. How could she not? She was a beautiful woman. Her thick, wavy dark brown hair falling on her fair shoulders and breasts. The red bikini contrasted well with her fair, lightly tanned, creamy Egyptian skin. Her bikini top was filled by her heavy DD breasts, which Elon had enjoyed thoroughly since their marriage, while her bikini bottom hugged her ample curves. , Elon thought, as he checked the clock, counting down the seconds till he could leave work and head home to his gorgeous wife. His phone buzzed again, with another message from Nadia. "I bought this to take on our trip. What do you think?", she asked. He responded with an eggplant emoji as he felt his cock involuntary swell. At their home, Nadia laughed as she saw her husband's text. She enjoyed teasing her husband. She knew she oozed sex appeal, and contrary to her more conservative upbringing, she enjoyed using it. She placed her phone down and resumed packing for their trip. Elon had been so busy with work since they got married, that this was their first trip as a couple. It was effectively their belated honeymoon, since their elopement. Neither of their families had approved of the marriage. Elon's parents vehemently opposed the marriage. Not only was Nadia an Egyptian Muslim, but it was her second marriage. Of course, Elon's attraction to both Nadia's physical beauty and her open personality overruled any religious prohibition he had. Nadia's first marriage, much to her family's chagrin, was to a swarthy Saudi. They had met in college, and Nadia was smitten. For some reason, she was always attracted to darker skinned men, and her first husband fit the bill. But after he had a nervous breakdown, they divorced. Eventually Nadia met Elon. Knowing that her family would disown her for marrying an Israeli Jew, they eloped. In contrast to her ex, Elon was essentially a pale, white Jew of European descent with light brown hair, but they were both deeply attracted to each other, in love and lust. Nadia continued folding her clothes into the suitcase. Both her and Elon had looked forward to their trip to Goa for months. Some of Elon's friends from Israel had recommended it....nice beaches, palm trees, a vibrant party scene, all for a decent price. It was a long flight, from frigid New York, to the sunny shores of India, but it was all worth it for the week long excursion. *2: A Marriage of Convenience* Rohit leaned back into the couch and opened his laptop. On the screen was the beautiful resort that he and Sarita would be staying at on vacation: a luxury hotel on the shores of Goa, with access to a private beach. He and Sarita were pretty well traveled since they had gotten married, but given that this trip was on their 2 year anniversary, it was a little more special. He took his eyes off the screen, and watched his wife pace around the kitchen, as she talked on the phone with her sister. His eyes followed Sarita, her slender frame moving lightly around the kitchen, her toussled black hair hair in a casual ponytail, as she tidied the kitchen in her comfortable tshirt and sweatpants. He could hear her voice, tinged with irritation, as she spoke with her sister, perpetually gossiping, interrupted only by the sound of her light footsteps on the tile floor. Rohit and Sarita were both American born Indians, and although both had visited the motherland before they got married, this was their first time as a married couple. Both were American, but their lives and cultural identity were shaded with a conservative Indian upbringing. They had known each other loosely in childhood and started dating in college. Outwardly shy, Sarita always had a strong sexual appetite from her teenage years, but was too coy to ever act upon it. After Rohit had broken up with his ex, he and Sarita began spending more time with each other. Sarita was attracted to Rohit and was comfortable growing closer to him. Eventually she let him in her bed, which culminated in him taking her virginity in her dorm room. From that point, they were an item together. For four years, they dated. Although Rohit's more aggressive attitude often clashed with Sarita's meek personality, there was enough physical attraction to make it work. Despite her boring and homely sense of fashion, Rohit thoroughly enjoyed Sarita's skinny body and her perky, surprisingly large C cup breasts. And Rohit had never failed to please Sarita in bed. After all, as the first man she had ever been with, Rohit knew Sarita's body well. Part of what made their relationship work was that both Rohit and Sarita understood the need to keep their relationship hidden from their parents. Both of their parents wanted them to get arranged marriages, something Rohit and Sarita loathed. Eventually, despite their personality differences, their mutual physical attraction and familiarity with one another led Rohit to propose getting married. Knowing her parents would be fairly comfortable with her marrying an Indian boy they knew well, Sarita agreed. Essentially, for Rohit and Sarita, it was a marriage of convenience. Two years later, the marriage had become stale. The physical attraction remained, but both Rohit and Sarita had become bored, although neither had openly voiced this. Rohit, in particular, had become more frustrated, as it seemed Sarita's libido had waned while his sexual appetite remained strong. Meanwhile Sarita, knew she wanted something else...something different, though she didn't know exactly what it was. She had begun feeling a sort of nuisance towards her husband, which led her to becoming more irritable. It was in this light, that Rohit booked a week long trip to Goa...not for visiting family, but to help inject some excitement back into their relationship. As he confirmed their flights from Washington DC to India, he took one last look at his wife, imagining her slim brown body in the new, white bikini he bought her just for the trip. *3: Hard in Her Hand* The cabin lights were off, and the only sound was the hum of the engines in the sleepy plane. The light from the in flight entertainment screen glowed softly on Elon, keeping him from fully drifting off to sleep. Nadia, seated beside him, appeared to be asleep already. After all, with the few glasses of wine they had at the airport bar before the flight, it was difficult to stay awake. Elon pulled the thin blanket closer over himself, as he prepared to doze off. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he felt Nadia's hand, gently reaching under his blanket, catching him by surprise. He glanced sideways at Nadia, catching her with her eyes closed, but wearing a sly grin. , Elon thought to himself amused. He settled himself into the seat, slightly spreading his legs, inviting his wife's probing hand under the cover. Nadia's hand slid under the blanket, over his shorts. He could feel her fingers, with her long nails, prying under his waistband. Elon shivered as he felt his wife's fingers, slide down his groin, her nails grazing his skin as they parted his hair. The tips of her fingers reached the base of his cock, which began to swell. Nadia, her eyes closed, grinned as she felt her husband's body respond to her touch. She reached her fingers around his cock, dragging them to his balls, which she began to massage gently. Elon tilted his head back, letting out a slight groan that was inaudible over the din of the engines. His wife's hand felt so soft, and her fingers knew exactly where to touch. He felt the blood flow to his cock, and his heart started to race knowing his wife was jerking him off in a plane full of unaware strangers. This is what he loved about his wife, her willingness to let her naughtiness out. Nadia felt her husband stiffening, and moved her fingers from his balls to his shaft. As she started to stroke, Elon became hard. He had to fold the blanket on top to conceal his growing boner. As Elon readjusted himself, Nadia surprisingly withdrew her fingers from Elon's shorts. Elon turned and looked at his wife, who still had her eyes closed, with a big grin on her face. She took her two fingers, and stuck them into her mouth, licking them well, and coating them in her saliva. Elon understood immediately. He relaxed once more, his cock straining. Nadia once again stuck her fingers under the blanket and into his shorts and began jerking him. Elon let out another quiet grown, his cock now rock hard between his wife's warm and wet fingers. With her fingers wet with her warm saliva, Nadia began jerking Elon off. She started slow and deliberately, her fingers rubbing every inch of his shaft, toying with the big head of his circumcised cock. Although her eyes were closed, she knew exactly what she was doing to her husband. She had him right where she wanted him, hard in her hand. Elon rested his hands on top of his lap, hoping to conceal Nadia's movement and his erection from any wandering eyes. As Nadia circled her fingers around the head of his cock, he could feel himself starting to leak precum. Was it the wine? Or just the thrill of getting jerked off in a plane? Either way, he was aroused. Nadia knew it too. As she felt the warm precum on her fingers, she knew she had enough wetness to start jerking faster. She moved up and down, quickly, along her husband's long, circumsized shaft. She could feel him throbbing, ready to cum, but every ten seconds or so, she would slow down, playfully teasing him as she could feel his cock strain. Finally, as Nadia started jerking with her whole hand, Elon leaned back in the seat, and came in his shorts. Nadia could feel his cock, pump one, two, three times, before a final fourth pump, as her husband emptied out his warm, sticky cum all over her hand and his underwear. Elon closed his eyes as he groaned with relief. She had a smirk on her face as she withdrew her hand, licking her husband's cum off her fingers, as Elon finally drifted deeply into sleep. *4: Shame and Satisfaction* Rohit shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He was stuck in the middle seat, with a heavy set man to his left towards the aisle. On his right was Sarita, her eyes closed with headphones on, wearing a thin jacket and sweatpants to keep her warm in the chilly plane. Rohit gently nudged her, trying to get her attention, but Sarita either ignored him or was asleep. It had been a rush to the aiport. Rohit had wanted to stop by the airport bar for a drink, but Sarita was unwilling. Although the trip was meant to be fun, it had already started off with friction. And it certainly did not help that the man to Rohit's left was snoring loudly. Rohit closed his eyes, and his mind started to wander. This trip was breaking the mold and trying new things. In his mind, he envisioned his wife dressed as a slutty flight attendent, walking up and down the aisle, showing off her thin legs, flashing glimpses of her cleavage everytime she leaned over to serve the drinks. The thought stirred him, the idea of his wife embracing her sexiness. How could he get her to open up? Sarita sat quietly with her eyes closed, feigning sleep. It had been a long, hectic day, and tension still lingered inside her. She looked forward to this trip, but still, something was bothering her. Would she enjoy it? Would she enjoy spending more time with her husband? She wanted to, not just for her sake, but her husband's sake too. She still loved Rohit, but could not help but to find herself frustrated with him at times. She knew he wanted her to be more open and spontaneous...more "fun". But for some reason, she had difficulty opening up. She could not pinpoint what was stopping her. After all, she wanted the same thing too, but she was too hesistant to do it. Was it shyness? Or maybe the lasting effects of her conservative upbringing? She opened her eyes briefly and glimpsed at her husband to see if he was still awake. Rohit opened his eyes fast enough to catch his wife's eyes spying on him, before she quickly went back to playing asleep. The image of Sarita in a sexy flight attendent outfit lingered in his mind, kindling his sexual appetite. He wanted to taste her, and now that he knew his wife was actually awake, he decided to take his chance. Sarita nearly jumped as she felt Rohit's hand slide across her thigh, testing the elastic waistband of her sweatpants. She reflexively grabbed his wrist, trying to restrain his movement, while glaring straight into his eyes, as if to say, Rohit looked back at his shocked wife with a smirk on his face, as he overpowered her grasp, forcing his hand deeper into her pants. As his fingers reached her groin, they felt the smooth skin of her pubis. Rohit was pleasantly stunned, and the look he gave Sarita as their eyes met reflected that. He almost could not believe it. The feeling of her goosebumps under his fingers on her hairless skin....Rohit knew this feeling. Rohit had a big smile as he realized that Sarita had gotten herself waxed for the trip. His heart raced in excitement. She had not waxed herself since they got married. As their eyes met, a mix of emotions ran through Sarita's mind. She knew Rohit would love the fact that she had waxed for this trip, and that made her happy. But his aggression, on a plane no less caught her offguard. Something about him trying to feel her up on a plane felt....shameful. As she felt his fingers prying, she clenched her thighs together. After feeling his wife's smooth skin, Rohit had a boner himself. He pressed his fingers deeper down, forcefully trying to part Sarita's thighs. Sarita tried grabbing his hand again, but the feeling of her slender hand on his wrist only made him reach harder. His fingers knew what they would find. Sarita looked around frantically, making sure nobody could see what was going on. The man to Rohit's left continued to snore loudly, and the whole plane seemed asleep. She wanted to yell at Rohit, but she knew she could not without possibly waking someone up. She squeezed her thighs together tighter, but that only seemed to make Rohit press harder. Finally, Rohit's fingers found what they had been looking for. As his fingers reached lower, he could feel his wife's warmth, until he could feel her pussy. As the tip of his finger found her tiny clit, he could feel Sarita relax her legs. He knew he had her. He moved his finger in a gentle circle. As he looked back at her, Sarita was no longer glaring at him. Instead, her head was tilted back, her eyes closed. Sarita knew her attempts to ward Rohit off had proven futile, and now her body was giving into it's physical desires. Every time Rohit circled her clit, she gripped the arm rest tighter, trying to fight it, as if she was afraid to cum. As she felt his fingers start enter her pussy, she let out a gasp, hoping nobody could hear it. With his fingers inside her, Sarita was now at her husband's mercy. Rohit gently shifted his two fingers inside his wife. Under the blanket and sweatpants, her pussy felt hot. He could look at his wife and tell that her lust was in control now. He moved his fingers back to her clit, and as he massaged it more, he could hear Sarita breathing more quickly. After a couple minutes of stimulating her clit, he moved his fingers back inside her. Now, he could feel her wetness. Sarita slid her feet out of her shoes, digging her feet into the carpet floor beneath the seat in front of her. As Rohit expertly fingered her, her toes curled. Her whole body was locked in sexual tension. She could feel herself getting wet and her nipples getting hard, as if this is what her body wanted all along. Rohit fingered her faster, careful not to attract too much attention. His heart raced as he felt Sarita's wetness and tightness around his fingers. He knew his wife well enough to know she was about to cum. The way her back was arching pressed her slender waist against the thick seat belt. As his fingers slid back and forth against her G spot, he leaned closer to her, knowing she was about to cum. As Sarita approached orgasm, it was as if everything faded away. There was no airplane, no rush to the airport, no frustration with her husband...just the singular focus of orgasm. Knowing she was about to cum, she leaned her head close to Rohit's, sticking her face into his pillow as she let out a quiet moan. Her body shuddered as it released every ounce of tension with this impromptu orgasm. Sarita sunk back into her seat, satisfied, as Rohit pulled his hand out of her pants. His fingers were covered in her juices, which he licked from his fingers as he looked at her. Sarita looked at him with a mix of shame and satisfaction, and then closed her eyes as she drifted off to sleep.

An intense rush of adrenaline punched through Will’s stomach. Maybe this was his chance to get some real information about who may have killed Miriam Lass. In between his sips of beer, Will glanced over towards Hannibal, eyeing the front of his jacket again. If he could only see the back of it, without being too noticeable or bringing up the topic. Will slowly leaned back, stretching his arms in a nonchalant manner. It was late, probably a few minutes after Midnight, and his action seemed appropriate, given the condition he was in. Slowly, Will slid his eyes over Hannibal’s back. His leather jacket was form-fitting, custom-tailored for sure. Hannibal wasn’t slouching, but his position, slightly leaned over his drink, made the leather fit to his shoulderblades handsomely, assuring that the jacket was thick enough to keep him warm on the road, but breathable, and stylish. Will stared at the logo hugging against Hannibal’s back. The same Stag head, black against black leather, white eyes, and white teeth, stared back at him. Chesapeake Rippers claimed the spot above the antlers. Will felt his head physically turn towards Hannibal, his concentration of stealth lost to the idea of getting a better view of the patch. Will was shaken with the memory of seeing the logo, for the first time, at the gas station. Near Quantico. The night that Miriam Lass was killed. Will’s breathing quickened, his hand wrapped tightly around the neck of his bottle, and his foot tapped nervously on the barstool. The President of The Chesapeake Rippers, the same man that Will had questionably seen at the gas station. The one that made him feel like he was being watched by a wolf. Will glanced over, eyeing the helmet that sat atop the bar. The tinted visor looked the same, and the idea that those whiskey-tinted eyes were watching him so intensely made Will shake, a little. He quickly hunched back into the bar, sipping nervously from his alcohol. “Will?” A handsome voice purred beside him, laced with curiosity. Will’s eyes flashed nervously over, but he could no longer look at the man’s face in any way, let alone his eyes, “Well, Will, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Will chuckled, accidentally. The sound was shaken, and odd, given the fast pace of his heart, and he dropped his gaze even further, “I’m probably just a lot more tired than I thought.” Even his voice sounded weak. “Is that so? Where is it that you live?” The bartender was busily wiping a rag along the counter, and wiping down bottles underneath the bar. Their conversation was as good as private. “Wolf Trap,” Will winced at himself. He was too used to being so brutally honest, that it didn’t occur to him to give a fake address until the name of the town spilled from his lips. “My, Will, that’s a bit of a drive, especially this late in the night, and even more so with a beer behind your tongue. Will you be alright to drive home?” “I’ll be fine.” The words spilled from Will’s lips before he could really think of them. Any more acts of hospitality from this man would make his hands quake. He’s just a man. He’s another President , like Jack, but he’s just a man. This whole day has gotten you more shaken up than you initially thought, Graham. He was a wiry, deeply unsettling man. They sat in silence, sipping in the low light of the bar. The bartender would come over and glance at Hannibal, tilting his head in silent question, and Hannibal would just raise his hand, barely over the table, to single he was alright. The Bartender would glance at Will, too, but Will would pretend not to notice, trailing his tired eyes down the line of the counter. It was about twelve-fourty when Will abruptly stood, reaching for his helmet. He could feel Hannibal eyeing him, his own drink almost gone as well. It had been a slow drink, a seemingly calm drink, but Will had made himself drink slowly, in an attempt not to seem nervous. He set the beer bottle aside and fumbled with his helmet’s visor. “Had enough for the night, Will?” Hannibal questioned lightly. His tone was still light, airy, and handsome. “Plenty,” Will grumbled back, nodding a quick thanks to the Bartender. The faster he could get out of there, the faster he could get back to Wolf Trap, and talk to Jack about his small findings. The faster he could sleep, even though sleep wouldn’t be easy, with his head wrapped around Miriam Lass and her mangled body. He was about to stride towards the door, when a hand caught his shoulder. It was warm, and terrifyingly inviting, “Will,” it was Hannibal’s voice again, “we should meet up again sometime. It’s nice to have a drink later in the evening, when the day is done. Perhaps next time we could do wine, or something a bit more tasteful.” Will found himself nodding, just to remove himself from the situation, “Yeah, we should do that.” The hand on his shoulder remained, “Then is it too much trouble to ask for your phone number? I’m not a man that finds himself texting very often, but it’s incredibly useful to send addresses and other information.” Will’s back was stiff, and he felt his gloved fingers twitching, nervously. Sweat misted his palm, inside the leather. He’d turn his gloves inside out when he got home. “I guess,” Will found himself mumbling out. There was no way for him to decline without seeming incredibly off-beat. He reached into his pocket, fumbling with his small phone, before flipping it open for Hannibal, “What’s your number?” “Ah, don’t bother,” Hannibal lightly chimed in, sliding his hand from Will’s shoulder to his phone. Will couldn’t ignore the way Hannibal’s hand slid over his own to take the device. For a man that sent chills down his spine, Hannibal was incredibly warm. Hannibal had Will’s phone in one hand, and his own in the other, glancing from screen to screen to press his number in, “I know it’s late for you, I wouldn’t want you to have to fumble with these small buttons.” In a moment it was done, and Hannibal gently slid Will’s phone back into his own hand. Will glanced at the contact, eyeing the name. Dr. Hannibal Lecter. “You’re a doctor?” Will asked curiously, his eyes moving back to Hannibal again. He felt himself twitch as he saw that Hannibal was looking at him, too. “Was, for a while anyways,” Hannibal chuckled, glancing at his phone. Will looked down, seeing he had saved Will’s number as well, WILL GRAHAM was typed out on the top of his screen. Hannibal’s thumb ghosted over the SAVE button, before he slid his phone away, “my heart just called more or less to the open road, and I thought I should follow it. What do you do, Will?” Will was looking down, now, taking in Hannibal’s slick leather boots, polished and buckled, and expensive. “I taught for a while,” Will mumbled out, phone still in hand, “bills aren’t really a big deal anymore, so I make and sell fishing lures, now. In the summer I make an extra buck with the fish I catch.” “Ah, a fisherman,” Hannibal praised lightly, nodding, “Takes a good amount of skill to make money on it, you must be very skilled.” “It started out as a pastime,” Will sighed out, reaching for his helmet. It was itching to go, the idea of getting information about who may have killed Miriam Lass was behind him, now. Hannibal glanced down at his helmet, “Well, since it’s not getting any earlier in the night, I shall let you go. Returning home sounds rather pleasant, right now.” Will glanced down at his phone again, still alight with Hannibal’s information. He quickly pressed SAVE, wincing at himself. Hannibal had his number, if he called Will up it’d be important to know who he was talking to. Will must have let the silence linger too long, because Hannibal’s voice broke his thoughts again, “Goodnight, Will.” “Goodnight, Doctor Lecter.” “Ah,” Hannibal chuckled, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out some crisp bills, which he set on the counter. A tip. “Call me Hannibal.” “Alright,” Will nodded, adjusting his gloves, “Goodnight, Hannibal.”   Will walked out of the bar before Hannibal did. He mounted his bike, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot. As he glanced in his rearview mirror, he saw Hannibal stride out and start to do the same. The Chesapeake Rippers logo was staring at right at him. Will felt himself rev the gas.     The next time that Will saw Jack, he was at the usual bar. But, he wasn’t alone. When Will strode into the red-tinted atmosphere, clouded with cigarette smoke and chatter, Jack was already there. He was seated at the bar, drink in hand, looking a tad more light than usual. Forensics members flanked him on each side. Will sat at the end of the bar, starting himself with a beer, like normal. His voice must have caught the ears of Jack, who glanced up and down the bar, “Will, you’re here,” Jack noticed, and Will could feel a few of the Forensics members at the bar gaze at him too. Jack stood, and went to go sit beside him, bridging the one-seat gap between himself and the first Forensics member, “What did you find out?” “Not much,” Will admitted, nodding his silent thanks to the bartender as a beer was slid his way. Will couldn’t ignore the light sag of Jack’s shoulders, and his firm gaze, “You found nothing at all?” “Not much means something, but it’s still not much,” Will sighed out. Jack raised his shoulders, “Well, what, then?” “I found out who it wasn’t.” Jack nodded, “Tell me.” “It wasn’t The Celtics, and it wasn’t Heaven’s Wolves.” Jack raised an eyebrow, “Are those the only two you’ve met so far?” Will took a long swig from his beer before answering, letting the silence linger, “I met up with the President of The Chesapeake Rippers.” “You think it was them?” “I don’t know. Didn’t stay long.” Jack let out a sigh, his fingertips tapping against the polished bartop, “And why not?” The sigh that Will let out followed Jack’s, just more elongated, more sarcastic, “It was late, Jack. That, and the guy didn’t make me feel right.” “Hannibal Lecter, you mean?” Will eyed Jack, now, feeling a little uneasy at the name, “How do you know him?” “We share a border, Will. Territories had to be disputed at some point.” “So you all don’t get along?” “That’s not what I said,” Jack shook his head, “They’re fine neighbors, but we did meet up a few times, them and us. Nothing severe ever happened, but I don’t think they were too happy with a new set of neighbors. That was when I was still just a member.” “Was Hannibal leading The Chesapeake Rippers then, too?” Jack nodded, “He’s their founder. Some argue he’s so damn good at doing it that he’s convinced his members into a small monthly fee for upkeep around their area, and the bar that they go to. The thing is, they’ve got so many members that the membership fee itself pays for everything right down to his gas money.” Will cocked his head to the side, “Surely they aren’t that big? He paid for my drink, last night.” “They’re not gigantic, and I’m sure he has a job, but in terms of his bikes, his Rippers have got him covered. Not like he needs it. You let him buy you a drink?” Jack eyed Will, and Will could feel the uneasy feeling of embarrassment wash over him. “He offered. Did it before I could object. And he gave me his number.” Jack seemed even more interested now, “Are you going to meet up with him again?” “I don’t know. Should I?” “Do you know his Rippers didn’t do it?” “No,” Will practically groaned. The feeling of his phone in his pocket suddenly felt very heavy, and Will thought that he’d feel the vibrating buzz of an incoming call at any moment. “Then humor him.” Will’s eyes slid shut as he sighed. He kept them closed for a moment, as he sipped on his beer. He felt Jack watching him. It was Jack that broke the silence, “I’ve got some important Forensics for you to meet, Will.” Will’s eyes popped open, “And who would that be?” he questioned lightly. “Well, they’re right here.” Will glanced up and down the bar. Several Forensics were staring at him, now, their faces light. They were a lot more comfortable right now than he was. “Will Graham, this is Beverly Katz, my Vice.” Jack motioned to Beverly, an asian woman with a light smile and intense eyes. She flipped him a little wave, before crossing her arms again. Will could only nod back and attempt a smile. “The rest are Brian Zeller, my Secretary, Treasurer, Jimmy Price, and the one at the end is Alana Bloom, my Sergeant at Arms.” Will eyed the group, his eyes lingering on Alana for a moment, before he mumbled back to Jack, “Fine group, you got there.” “I’d have to agree,” Jack chuckled, and Will saw Beverly chuckle too before turning back to Zeller, “It’s rare that we all get to meet up like this. It’s a nice change.” That would explain Jack’s happier attitude. Will suspected that he felt better when he had his crew around.   The evening continued, and Will kept himself sober, holding back from more alcohol than he should drink. The sun was down when he walked out into the cool winter air, but it was only about 8 pm. As Will mounted his bike, and set his hands on the handlebars, about ready to drive home, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. Reaching down, he pulled his phone out, staring at the caller I.D. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was scrolling across his screen. Will sat there a moment, staring down at his phone, debating whether or not to answer it. On about the fifth ring, he flipped his phone open, and put it against his ear. “Hello?” “Ah, Will. I was thinking I caught you at a bad time,” Hannibal’s crisp voice was filtering through the other line. “Not really, no. I was about to drive home.” “If that’s the case, I’ll make this quick. Would you like to get together again for some drinks sometime? I found our conversation lightly amusing, whether it was the time of day or the atmosphere, I don’t know for sure, but you seemed like an interesting individual, and it’s rare to find an individual that truly interests me.” Will listened to Hannibal ramble lightly, staring at the neon OPEN sign of the bar. He didn’t know how to answer the question. “Well, uh,” Will stalled for a moment, trying to find out if there was any way he could refuse. He’d rather be at home with his dogs, attempting to get some sleep, “what day would we be talking about?” “This Friday, perhaps? It’s the starting night of the weekend, and hopefully you would find it far enough ahead in advance that I didn’t clash with any other schedule.” Will racked his brain, trying to find an excuse for Friday evening. It was too cold to go out fishing, and his lures could be made in the daytime as well as the nighttime. It’s not like he had a date, and saying he did was highly unbelievable. Accepting defeat, Will held back the sigh he wanted to let out against the phone, “This Friday sounds fine.” “Excellent,” Will could hear the smile on Hannibal’s lips, “This Friday it is, then. Although, I’d hate to make you drive all the way to Baltimore for us to meet up at the same place. A closer location, perhaps? I know a lovely little place, out of the way, that serves some fine drinks.” “That sounds fine, Hannibal. Why don’t you send me the address?” “I most certainly will,” Hannibal agreed, his voice getting a tad softer, “Be safe on the road, Will.” “I will,” Will agreed, “Talk to you later.” “We most certainly shall. Good evening, Will.” And with that, the call was ended. Will held the phone against his ear, before lowering it and sliding it away. Already his limbs felt heavy. His phone buzzed again in his pocket, presumably the address that Hannibal was to send. What did Will get himself into?

XXX.  When morning came, Link felt better rested than he had in the last month. The distinct sensation of being somewhere he didn’t expect blossomed in his mind but Link felt too warm and comfortable to find concern. He cracked his eyes open to just a small rectangle of light reaching through the tiniest of slits near the ceiling, the golden light set into pure white stone like a gem. Oh. That’s right. This was Sheik’s old room. Vrika. The book. With much effort, Link pulled himself up from the bed and stretched, joints cracking loudly in protest. Well, at least he had slept – and soundly at that. The desert heat and the humidity from the rainforest pressed in around him and the familiarity of it was almost comforting. This was Sheik’s climate. He missed Sheik. Link shook his head and pulled his discarded gear back on. Focus. He needed to focus and get what he came for. He could be back in the castle by nightfall if he hurried. Maybe Sheik hadn’t even noticed Link’s absence. Maybe he could slip back in like he had never gone and he and Zelda would be spared the Sheikah’s wrath. The good rest Link had managed to find had him moving faster and feeling lighter as he worked his way out of the temple, gnawing on some jerky to quiet his stomach. Link had thrown the book out the window of a room on the second floor however he wasn’t sure where that window would be from the outside of the House of Vala. He would have to search the area it had most likely fallen to and hope that nothing had become of it. The sun was blinding and the heat tenfold outside the temple. The familiar sight of Vrika blocked out half the sky and was illuminated by the rising sun. The city glowed a bright ivory and, despite what had happened there, it was truly one of the most beautiful places Link had ever seen. For a moment, Link could almost comprehend just a small piece of the pain the Sheikah felt for its loss; for something so beautiful to be taken from the world… Link decided to follow the line of stones along the side of the temple; looking at the windows yielded nothing when they all appeared nearly identical. He searched through the little scrub plants that had grown wild after years of neglect, avoiding the thorns and scorpions that tried to hinder his process. And then, there it was. Nearly ripped in half from its fall, the old red book was tented on the dusty stone ground; how a storm hadn’t come to destroy it in the past week was a miracle. Well, at least this particular trip would be easy despite everything else. Only it wasn’t. “How interesting,” said a distinctly feminine voice from a few paces behind him. Recognition jolted through his body and he dropped the book, whirling around and drawing the Moon Blade with a piercing ring. Of course. Evanna stood before him in a long red gown, arms crossed, and red mouth stretched into a wide, calculating smile. Link’s fingers tightened convulsively on the hilt of his sword as an all-too familiar energy reached him, even more powerful now that his senses had improved. In many ways, Link wasn’t surprised to see her there. Foursky wanted to words – she wanted the words. Their intelligence had probably led them to Vrika. Thankfully, she was too late. “How interesting to find you out here, Hero of Time,” she finished, managing to look inquisitive as though she honestly didn’t expect for them to meet. But she didn’t spare any effort in the condescension of his old title. Link tried not to bristle at the mocking tone but a fury he didn’t expect was growing in his chest. “You’ve broken your word. You said you would leave Hyrule, Queen,” Link snarled, rage quaking through him like a thunderstorm. Seeing the face of the monster that marked Sheik… “This,” Evanna countered, gesturing around her, “is not in the jurisdiction of Hyrule. I came here to tie up some loose ends…and instead I found you. And with a book written by an old friend of mine, no less. You have come an awfully long way for just a book. You should return to your castle.” “What loose ends?” he barked, raising his sword even closer to her thin form and ignoring her useless banter. He couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t attack him with her seemingly limitless magic. And now with the Vaspra, she could probably kill him with ease. “The Order of Hexa. They are criminals who, as I have told you before, must stand trial for their crimes to our kingdom,” she explained blankly, the smile leaving her face too quickly for Link’s liking. She let her arms fall to her side and Link’s gaze followed them warily. “I thought they might still be here but it seems I only just missed them.” “I arrived here last night and found it empty. No one is here. So leave,” Link ordered. “So hostile,” Evanna purred with a smirk that didn’t touch her eyes; they were black and deep and angry underneath her carefully crafted amusement. This wasn’t going to end well. “Go back to your castle, Link.” It was the second time she had told him to return to the castle – but why? The way Evanna said it was nothing like a threat. It was almost as though he had strayed outside of her plans. Perhaps his decision to come to Vrika had disrupted something important. Link needed more information. “I want you and your people out of Hyrule,” Link pressed, pushing the Moon Blade ever closer to her. “You’ve caused us trouble enough.” “I must stay and look for the Order. I was commanded so by Foursky,” she shot back, advancing forward as well. Her oppressive aura pushed against Link and made him feel clouded as she attempted to breach his mind, like the evening of the banquet when they first met. “Get out of my way. Leave.” “Why do you want me to leave so badly?” Link pressed, heart hammering away at what might happen if he didn’t back down. “I know what's coming Evanna. I know what you’ve done. You marked Sheik like cattle and I won’t let you get what you want from him. You could just kill me now but you’re just telling me to –” “You think you know what is coming?” she screamed, in a flash of energy summoning an enormous black sword, veins of glowing blue Vaspra bleeding through its blade like water. Her eyes burned like hot coals and her mouth was stretched into a terrible, unnatural sneer. Evanna held the blade to his throat, locking them together at the end of blades, daring each other to make the first move. “I can bring this country to its knees in just one breath! You have no idea what is coming! It is bigger than you, bigger than your army, bigger than Hyrule, even bigger than me! So play your little part, Hero, and do as you are told!” Her voice was toxic, each syllable more poisonous than the next. The words were a warning so potent, Link wasn’t truly sure of what she was trying to say anymore. But Evanna was furious and dangerous and trembling with thundering energy so he would save his musing for later. If he survived, that is. For one dizzy moment, Link was entirely sure that the battle would start. And he would die. How could he stand against a blade laced with Vaspra? She was more powerful than him in every possible way and, although he battled many things many times his size and power, nothing could compare to the raw and unimaginable energy of Vaspra. He knew that now more than ever. “You should step away from Link before you start a fight you will be unable to finish, Evanna,” shouted a loud voice from behind the woman in question. Oh no. Sheik. Of course it was Sheik. Evanna pivoted at lightning speed, suddenly at the mercy of two swords as they now stood in an obtuse angle, locked in a mismatched stand-off. And of which Link knew he was the weakest but stood at the ready anyway. Sheik looked – and rightfully so – absolutely infuriated. It was much like the rage Link had seen on his face when Nameth had died. It looked deadly and Link was just relieved he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Yet. “There would not have to be a fight if both of you had stayed where you belong. This fight would be nothing compared to what is soon to come,” Evanna spat, looking more and more like a wild cat than a woman. Her sword was now fixed on Sheik but a hand stayed outstretched to Link just in case. “Save your intimidation for someone who actually fears you,” Sheik snarled, his voice low and aggressive in a way Link had never heard it. “Tell me, Evanna – why do you feel weaker than before?” Shock betrayed her face and relief flooded Link; he couldn’t tell the difference in power. Link’s senses had been so dull before his time in the Nether so he had nothing to compare it to. But Sheik did and he had clearly hit a tender subject as Evanna struggled to regain her control. The sword shuddered in her grip and she took one small step back. “Leave,” Sheik commanded, voice even louder than before. In a distortion of sound, a layer of angry flames coated his sword and Link had to do a double-take. When had he learned to do that? “Leave now. We will see you on the battle field, you monster.” Evanna looked as though she were about to explode. Link braced himself for an attack…but it never came. Her glare was hostile and burning into Sheik, silence filling the courtyard as a rumble of coming storms sounded behind the mountain. The moment was dreadfully long and adrenaline pumped painfully through his body as Evanna seemed to decide her next and maybe even final move. But then she grinned, as though she accepted his challenge, as though she knew something they didn’t. Evanna bared her teeth in the sunlight and growled, “What a fine soldier you are going to make, Sheik, last of the Sheikah.” In a burst of light, quicker than Link could conceive, Evanna was gone. They stood frozen for a moment, too shocked by her exit and too horrified by what she had implied. The way Evanna had said last of the Sheikah sent chills down his spine. Link knew what she was threatening and it made his blood run cold and the premonition flash back into his mind, the reminder completely involuntary now. Evanna’s excuse had been weak at best – she claimed to be looking for the Order but was far more insistent about them returning to the castle… What was her motive? What were they missing? Link turned his attention to Sheik, unsure of what he was even going to say. The man in question shoved his sword straight into the hard sand beneath his feet, flame dying instantly, and advanced on Link without hesitation. Before he could track such quick movements – oh Goddesses, why was he always one step behind? – Link was shoved backward, nearly stumbling over the scrub plants beneath his feet. If it had been anyone else Link would’ve dodged the charge and broken away…but those fierce red eyes paralyzed him and he allowed his back to collide with the heated wall behind him. Because he was tired of fighting with Sheik. And also, he definitely deserved to be slammed against a wall. Link let the Moon Blade slip out of his grip and it clattered loudly to the ground; there would be no fighting whatever fury awaited him. Sheik’s response to his “reckless” behavior was always to attack and Link didn’t intend on playing the game this time. Sheik was in his space looking somehow more furious and it took every amount of focus Link had to meet such a powerful gaze. Heat, more than the climate could ever offer, erupted between them as the Congruence snapped awake and exploded in Link’s forehead. Sheik reached up and ripped down his cowl, revealing the true rage etched into his face. And like a moron Link stayed against the wall just staring, unsure of what was to come. “What in the nine hells is wrong with you?!” Sheik bellowed, shoving his arm against Link’s chest, pining him hard enough to take away his breath. “Did you think I would not notice you running off to play martyr again? Do you think this is a game, Link?” Oh. Well, now Link was angry too. He pushed the Sheikah off him – albeit with more extra force than normal – letting out a frustrated growl. “Martyr? I’m not playing a game and I’m no martyr!” Link bit back. “I came back here for that stupid book about Congruence! Zelda ordered me to retrieve it, so don’t go throwing around accusations –” “I don’t care why you’re here, Link!” Sheik snapped, mouth turned into somehow an even deeper scowl, words stringing together like he had to heave them out. “I care that you went alone!” Without me. The last words rang in Link’s head, so intense and emotional it was clear the only way Sheik could’ve possibly conveyed them was only through thoughts. It hit Link like a blow to the skull and, for a moment, his anger died like a flame to rain and he stood there staring blankly. “I went alone because I’m sick of you being in danger,” Link said after a moment, his voice so quiet compared to the arguments the courtyard had seen thus far. The sky growled again to punctuate his words and, if anything, his statement seemed to incense Sheik even further. “Yes, because it is perfectly fine for you to put yourself in danger!” he shouted, voice laced with sarcasm and a venom that didn’t go deep enough to truly poison. Because underneath the words was hurt, ringing as clear as the sunlight they were sweating in. Link couldn’t allow himself to feel guilty…but he couldn’t exactly feel justified anymore, either. Once more Sheik was in his space, crowding Link against the wall and their Congruence flared like a vicious flame in his mind. Waves of it crossed into Link’s head and he realized that some of his anger was originating through his connection with Sheik. But he still had plenty of his own anger. “Don’t treat me like a child,” Link warned, the tone low in his throat. “I’m just doing what the damn Goddesses want from me. I’m always in danger and that will never change.” “You’re completely missing my point!” Sheik yelled, so close Link could feel his breath. “Then I’m tired of dancing around this Sheik! Why don’t you, for once, actually say what you mean?” Link planted his hands against Sheik’s chest, less to push him away and more to create yet another pathway for the Congruence racing through them both. His voice shook with rage as, a question he hadn’t even known was festering inside him spilled from his mouth and filled the space between them. Link had hit a nerve and he watched Sheik falter for a moment, the breath in his lungs static in anticipation. And then Sheik looked so infuriated Link waited for the punch that would probably knock him out for a few hours. Except…well, that never came. Instead he earned strong hands gripping his jaw and a mouthful of rough lips. And if Link thought the Congruence had been intense before…well, that was just a tiny blip compared to the tsunami of power that came down like a vice and threatened to drag him into some oblivion. An overheated body pressed against his and every nerve in his body was set alight. Link reached forward, grabbing whatever he could of the Sheikah and dragged him desperately closer. Because he was convinced that any moment he was going to either explode or pass out. Full lips dragged over his and Congruence erupted like staggered explosions, one bombastic wave after another. Link’s fingers tangled blindly with worn fabric and the overpowering smell of incense on Sheik was a strange, pleasant sort of suffocation. Link tugged their bodies closer together, the pressure between them eliciting a deep, ragged groan from Sheik that filled his mouth and his mind. There was no way he could handle this. Link was going to pass out like an idiot. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could barely… Teeth scraped over his bottom lip and that one little movement ignited something that kept him conscious and trapped indefinitely in a whirlwind of power. Link was suddenly yanked from the lethargic command of Congruence, pivoting to pin Sheik hard against the wall before the thought was even summoned. Link’s fingers threaded roughly back through thick, damp hair and he ran his teeth and tongue over long-bitten lips, finally fulfilling the stray thought that had been plaguing his mind for possibly weeks. Fingers dug into his back and Link groaned without restraint as more boiling heat filled him up and possessed his mind. Lightning crashed over their heads, the sound so deafening they jumped slightly apart in shock. The sky was darker than it had been before everything started and the fire in Sheik’s expression was almost like hypnosis. There would be no moving away; not with the vice-like grip Sheik had on him. And Link couldn’t possibly think of a different location that would be better than his current one so they just stared at each other for a moment like any movement, any words would break the spell. Sheik was the first to move – he reached up to cradle Link’s jaw in what was such a gentle gesture it stole his breath for a moment. Sheik kissed him again, infinitely softer and sweeter than Link was capable of handling, and pulled away to murmur, “That’s what I mean.” Lightning struck the spire well above them, pulling them back into reality with earsplitting sound as the sky turned a dangerous dark gray. The storm had moved in quick and, if it was anything like what they had seen from a distance when they crossed the desert, they were in for a very rough time if they stayed outside. “We need to get inside,” Sheik said, giving the sky a wary look. Link ducked down to snatch the forgotten and half-destroyed book from the ground as rain began to fall in thick loud drops. They hurried back in, just as the downpour arrived and the echo of it was an eerie roar in the hallway. Sheik led the way and Link wasn’t sure yet where they were going. The Sheikah’s pace was slow and tired and Link wondered when he had last slept – he couldn’t imagine it had been any time recently considering the training regimen they had all been lost in. He wanted to reach out and touch Sheik’s shoulder, order him to bed…but he was too tense to do anything other than follow. They had just kissed. A very heated, intense, and mind-shattering kiss. Actually, two kisses. The thought of it all but scattered his thoughts and made him feel warm and cumbersome. He didn’t know what to make of it. Because he had been reminding himself like a mantra that it wasn’t the time. But Sheik started it. In fact, Sheik always started it. He would’ve been angry about that ten minutes prior, but now it just made him want to laugh. Sheik nearly tripped over his own feet and any nervousness Link had was washed away with concern. “You need to sleep,” Link ordered as Sheik’s balanced swayed and he touched the wall for support. “When have you last slept?” “I don’t remember,” he replied with a shake of his head, pausing at a junction of hallways to hold the wall. Link let out a sigh. So, Sheik had stormed through the Portal to get on Link’s case about running off alone, yet he couldn’t even get proper sleep. Maybe both of them were just morons and that’s why they fit so well together. Link took the Sheikah’s hand and led him towards the old chambers as a crack of electricity rang like an explosion through the hollow temple. For a moment it seemed like he might resist but Link tugged until his companion complied. Sheik wasn’t going to travel well if he couldn’t even walk straight; Link would make him sleep for a few hours and then they’d move on. The room felt damp from the downpour outside and drips of water rolled down the walls and into pans on the floor Link hadn’t taken notice of. It only made sense they would collect whatever fresh water they could manage. Sheik sank heavily onto his old bed, looking more exhausted than Link had ever seen him. Maybe Link would have him sleep for longer than a few hours. Link began to leave – maybe he could occupy himself with a book until Sheik was rested – but a hand shot out and caught his gauntlet, reminding him of the day in the library when their roles had been reversed. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of it. Sheik hadn’t opened his eyes but there was a slight smile on his still exposed mouth. “Stay,” he ordered. His voice was hoarse and he tugged lightly on Link’s arm. “Pushy,” Link commented, unbuckling his sword and laying down next to him. The storm was moving fairly quick, the roar of rain and occasional rumble a soothing white noise. He stared at the alabaster ceiling and listened to Sheik’s breathing as he tucked his arms behind his head. Although he tried not to be a bundle of nerves…there was a tangible tension between them. Link almost didn’t believe it when Sheik moved closer and pressed his face to Link’s chest, letting out a long sigh. It sent his heart into a terrible frenzy and the Congruence reacted in kind, the combination creating a deep, possessive emotion within him that was altogether foreign. “Please don’t do that again,” Sheik mumbled in slow, connected words. “You are going to shorten my lifespan. Stop trying to do everything alone. You don’t have to anymore.” “I…I know,” Link breathed, closing his eyes to focus on the warmth making his limbs heavy. Relief. It was mostly relief. And then a deep affection he’d been carrying for too long to age. It pulsed through him freely as they touched and Link couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and threading his fingers back through Sheik’s hair, a fascination he didn’t know he had until he felt its texture. Link hadn’t known things would be like this. In the spare moments he had tried to imagine what they would be without all the walls and careful avoidance…and it wasn’t this. It wasn’t open affection and a deep, resonating feeling of contentment and safety. How could Link have predicted something he had never come close to experiencing? It was very new…but then it wasn’t. This was just how they had always been only now they weren’t dancing around the topic anymore. The façade had been dismantled and it’s not the time seemed so ridiculous now. So they lay there and listened to the storm, hovering at the brink of war, finally to some sort of apex Link hadn’t known they’d been heading for. “Link,” Sheik began, “how long have you felt this way?” The inquiry shoved Link off his axis for a minute, heart protesting to the stress. How long? Link didn’t even know anymore. All he knew was they were morons for wasting so much time. “I don’t remember the moment it started,” he responded, voice just above a whisper. “It’s just…always been there. What about you?” Sheik shifted a little and propped a chin on his hand so he could study Link with dark, tired eyes. Link immediately felt bad – he was obviously keeping his companion from sleep – but Sheik didn’t seem bothered. In fact his eyes turned soft as he regarded Link for a long moment and said, “My answer is the same as yours. I did not understand it until we became friends after the war and I realized I…couldn’t leave your side.” Warmth and something like happiness spread through his chest and Link wanted to laugh; they had both felt the same the entire time. And here they were three years later finally acting on it. “Considering how inept at emotions we both know I am, it didn’t become obvious to me until…the Nether. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” “The war put you through enough, Link. I was not going to lay all of that on you while you were still healing,” Sheik explained. “And then after time…it just seemed easier to leave it alone. I made myself content with how we were. I did not know if you even felt the same.” Sheik paused for a moment, gaze dropping away from Link’s eyes in thought. “When you told me why you stayed,” Sheik murmured, “it caught me off guard. I did not know Zelda had made you that offer and to hear you had declined it because of me…I almost told you how I felt then but…” Link couldn’t help but wince at the memory – no matter the distance he put between himself and his time in the Nether, it still lingered in his mind like a hidden thorn he occasionally scraped against. He could still taste the agony on his tongue, the ache in his mind as he lost his grasp on reality, the mindless digging as he fought desperately to find something to resurrect Sheik with. And then the voice in his head, the phantom of Sheik keeping him moving forward… How could Sheik have not known? How could Link have not known? It had been so obvious for so long. “I know you still blame yourself for what happened there,” Sheik reminded him, managing to look stern. “There is no reason to. You did everything you could. I have seen you broken so many times over the horrors you have been forced into – do not be broken over this as well.” The words gripped roughly at Link’s throat and he had to look away for a moment, staring intently at the ceiling once more. Sheik would always see through his pretenses and press on the one nerve that he desperately wanted conceal. But he felt warm fingers run over his knuckles and he sighed because if anyone was going to see the vulnerable parts of him, it was Sheik. Their Congruence was a slow, warm volley between them, carrying back and forth an affection that filled the emptiness Link hadn’t even known was there. He reached down and took Sheik’s free hand, thrilled by the ease of their contact and the new territory he had earned. The wraps along his palms and fingers were wound so tightly, always hiding skin like Sheik’s cowl. The desire to remove one more boundary between them came on stronger than he anticipated. Link unraveled the thin cloth, pleased when Sheik didn’t pull away; in fact he held perfectly still and shifted his fingers to allow Link to pull them all free. He had little doubt he was taking a lot of liberties. While Link was still so ignorant to much of Sheikah traditions, something suggested that revealing Sheik’s hands and face was a profound demonstration of trust. Like Sheik was offering himself. He shuddered slightly when their fingers laced together, completely free of the cloth between them. Everything in his life had become, in some way, related to Sheik. Half his decisions, without even realizing it, were either for or because of Sheik. And Link thought about the war and the premonition and it made his chest ache. “I can’t lose you to Hexam,” Link said, voice coming out hoarse. “I can’t keep losing you.” Sheik shifted immediately, kissing him softly and squeezing his hand. The gesture came so easily, the emotion it elicited still so intense that Link immediately pulled him closer by the loose cowl around his neck. No. He couldn’t let this go. He couldn’t lose this now that he had it. If the premonition scared him before, he was terrified now. And not for his own life – because if Sheik was killed Link would be following him in death anyway – but because he couldn’t bear to see this man be possessed, for those beautiful red eyes to turn such a cold blue. He couldn’t let Foursky have Sheik. Sheik was his. The thought influenced the energy between them and the possessive nature made Link pull him even closer, biting lightly at the lips against his. He lost the fingers wrapped in his but he felt them again on him temple, cradling his face. Sheik opened his mouth to run his tongue against Link’s lip and the sensation sent a tide of chills over his skin. And then it all stopped as Sheik pulled away, still so close they shared the same air. Dark red eyes melted into his and Sheik looked so tired despite the intensity of his expression. “I can’t lose you, either,” he breathed, running fingertips along Link’s jaw. And with that, a sense of finality fell over Link’s mind. They were Congruent. They were lovers. They could not live without each other, in every sense of the meaning. Link reached up and pulled Sheik back down to him, pressing his face into a warm neck. Because Link didn’t know what else to do but hold him and feel that solid weight against his chest. And they stayed like that for a long time. Eventually Sheik fell asleep, the familiar cadence of his breath a relief to Link. He lay still and let his mind wander as the storm outside seemed to move towards the desert to torture the sand. Link thought of all his days traveling with Sheik, all the moments he had pushed away thoughts that had now been made a reality. Link thought of the Nether and the agony of loss. Link thought of the Congruence still resonating between them, laced with the truth of their shared mortality. The word bounced around in his head but he wasn’t ready for it. Later. He would let it sink in later. He had this and this was plenty. It was dusk when Sheik woke, having long shifted with his cheek to Link’s collarbone. Even despite the nagging reminder of the people awaiting them in Hyrule, they laid there for moments longer than planned. They clung to the calm they had created and Link let his hand tangle with Sheik’s once more. War was coming and this would be a luxury. When they went back, would they have to put this away? “We need to go,” Sheik said softly, running his thumb along the calluses on Link’s sword hand. “While the Queen knows I'm gone, Kalyh does not, and leaving her alone sets my teeth on edge.” “How did you know I left?” he asked, voice rough from disuse. “I sensed you leaving Hyrule when you crossed through the Portal. The Congruence was stretched in an odd way so I could only assume that was where you had went,” he explained. “The Queen told me she wanted the book, but she failed to explain why." Link moved to sit up, Sheik moving as well so Link could snatch the book from the stack of others on the nightstand and hand it to him. “Maybe you should just read it.” Sheik pushed his hair out of his eyes – looking disheveled in a way that sent a spike of heat through Link’s gut – and took the book curiously. And with nothing else to do, Link just watched as Sheik’s fingers threaded carefully through the damaged pages and eyes skimmed the words quickly. He felt a stressed anticipation for what his companion’s reaction might be as Sheik’s eyes did laps over the old text until…they widened and he knew Sheik now understood the seriousness of their situation. And then he lifted his shocked gaze. “Link…” Sheik started, but couldn’t seem to translate his thoughts to spoken language. “This is why we have to protect these words, Sheik. Now it’s the prophecy that’s at stake, too.” But Sheik stared down at the book again, like it was something completely alien to him, written in a language he had never read. Link couldn’t blame him; he remembered having a similar reaction after learning about the truth of Congruence. Hopefully Sheik didn’t intend on throwing the book like he did, however – that poor thing had been through enough. When Sheik still couldn’t seem to escape his shock Link reached out and touched his jaw. It was instinctual and gained Sheik’s attention again, dragging him out of what Link could only assume were very dark thoughts. “We need to go,” Link stressed. “We need the Master Sword,” Sheik replied. ***

Just like every morning, Sandor woke up very early, before everyone else, when it was still dark outside. The first thing that he did every morning was going out for a run, he needed the exercise to stay fit and muscular, and it helped him think clearly. Then he returned to the Red Keep manor, took a cold shower, put on his black work suit and had breakfast. By the time he was done, the sun had rised and everybody was awake. Joffrey Baratheon always had breakfast with his mother and his two younger siblings, who were no more than teenagers. Sandor had always hated the mother, Cersei Lannister. She was probably the most arrogant woman in the entire country, and also the most promiscuous, thought she always tried to hide that last part. But he didn't hate her as much as he hated his boss Joffrey. Joffrey had entered the dining room without even saying hello, and he was sitting down on the large mahogany table having breakfast and reading that morning's newspaper. As usual, he was trying to find what was being said about him. For the expression on his face, Sandor supposed that it was good news. "I don't know why I have to wait any longer" the young man said. "I'm practically President already, I'm the one that's governing. Why waste more time and money when I have no opponents? At least, no competent ones…" "Things have to made how they are supposed to if you want to do them right" his mother said, taking a sip from a cup of tea. "Dog!" Joffrey said then, and Sandor looked at him. Joffrey always called him like that. "Did you do what I told you yesterday?" "Yes" he nodded. Cersei looked curious. "What was that, Joffrey?" she asked her son, putting the cup of tea down on the table. "Sansa was left with no bodyguards and she had a concert last night, so I told the Hound to go" Joffrey said, without taking his eyes away from the newspaper. His face was serious now. "I trust everything was alright?" "There was a fan riot, but nothing important" Sandor said. It had been something serious, Sansa could have been harmed, but he doubted very much that either Joffrey or Cersei would care very much about it, so why say anything else? "Huh, interesting… And tell me, did you see any… men? With her?" Joffrey's expression was dark, but Sandor was not able to read it, as he could not see the look in his green eyes. But he didn't like the tone of voice in which his boss had asked that question. Was that the reason why he had sent his bodyguard to take care of his fiancée? To check that she wasn't seeing anyone else behind his back? Sandor had only seen Sansa that last night, and he didn't know her, but she certainly didn't look like the kind of person that would cheat. She looked so sweet and fragile… Like a china doll. "No" he answered then, with no trail of emotion on his voice, just like every time that he spoke when he was on the job. Joffrey seemed satisfied with the answer. Right then, just like if she had been summoned by them when they mentioned her name, Sansa appeared in the dining room where the Baratheon-Lannister family was having breakfast. The sight of her surprised Sandor, who had never seen the young woman anywhere inside the Red Keep. Sansa was wearing a short white dress, and her long auburn hair was loose. Everyone else seemed as surprised as Sandor to see her there. "Sansa!" Cersei exclaimed, and she smiled upon seeing her future daughter-in-law. "Such a surprise to see you here, little dove!" "I woke up earlier today" the young woman said, smiling shyly. "I couldn't sleep." Then she saw Sandor, who was standing on his feet a few feet away from Joffrey. She stared at him in the eyes for a second, and then she looked away without saying anything. Sandor was not sure, but he could have sworn that the girl's cheek had turned of a bright pink color just then. "I hear that there was trouble in the concert?" "Well, just a few fans, it was nothing… The entire night was perfect." Sandor had to fight back his urge to snort. It was not his place to make any comment. "Sansa" Joffrey said suddenly, and the girl looked at him "are you forgetting something?" She looked confused for a moment, but then she smiled (Sandor thought that there was something off about that smile) and she walked to where her fiancée was and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the lips. "Good morning" she said, still smiling. And still, there was something off about that smile, but no one seemed to notice. Then she sat down next to her fiancée and the servants served her some breakfast. She was starving. Sandor couldn't keep his eyes off her. She had thought a bit about her last night, he had found it quite hard to forget about that beautiful woman with the auburn hair and blue eyes, and now that she was there in front of him paying attention to nothing else but to her breakfast, Sandor found himself observing her from the corner of his eye. Sansa was much more calmer than she had been last night, when he brought her back to the Red Keep, but he could perfectly see that she was uneasy... Was she still shaken up about last night? Thought curiosity was biting at him, he made no comments. He just stood there in complete silence behind his boss. "Are you alright, Sansa?" Cersei asked then, apparently sensing too that Sansa was behaving somehow weirdly. "You seem awfully quiet this morning..." Sansa looked alarmed by that comment. Sandor frowned while he watched the girl shake her head from side to side quickly, like a little girl who was afraid of having been caught doing something bad. "No, I'm just... I couldn't sleep well. But I'm alright" Sansa pulled a small smile from her lips. Then something seemed to have ocurred to her. "Joffrey..." she murmured, calling her fiancée, who didn't lift his face from the newspaper to look at her. However, Sansa continued speaking. "I was wondering if I... I wanted to ask you if I could maybe go out today? There are some thing I want to buy." Sandor frowned even more than before. Was she asking for permision to go out? What was this, a prison?! "There is no one that can accompany you today" was all Joffrey say, still with his face hidden behind the newspaper. Sandor almost snorted when he heard that tone of voice coming out of his boss' mouth. What was he thinking, that Sansa wanted to go out to meet with other men? Didn't Joffrey trust his word when Sandor had told him that his fiancée hadn't been seen with any men? As if Joffrey had read his thoughts, he turned his head around to stare at the huge bodyguard, and remained silent for a couple of seconds before shrugging. "You can take Clegane again if you want." Cersei almost choked on her cup of tea. "What?!" she exclaimed, thought it sounded more like are you fucking nuts?! She seemed to realize that too, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "But, Joffrey, you can not be left without a bodyguard..." "I have Meryn and Boros, they'll do for the day" Joffrey said before his mother stopped talking. Then he looked at his fiancé. "Are you ok with that, my darling?" Sandor's eyes immediatly searched Sansa's, and so did her's, who lifted her head to look at him. A pink flush appeared on her face, which confused Sandor. What was she flushing about? She seemed to struggle when looking at him. Is it the bloody scars? But there wasn't any sign of disgust on her face, just... simple embarrassment. "If he's alright with it" Sansa ended up saying. Sandor almost snorted again in amusement. So bloody polite! Joffrey closed the newspaper and left it on the table. "Then say no more, he's all yours for the day" Sansa blushed furiously again when Joffrey said those words. Sandor's amusement just kept increasing with each passing second. Sansa finished her breakfast and stood up from the table. "Well then..." she said "We're leaving in ten minutes. And we need the car" and then she walked away from the dining room. For Sandor, this was humilliating. Now he did bot only receive orders telling him to take care of the singer, but he also had to take orders from the singer. But as much as he wanted to protest and say a thing or two that wouldn't be exactly appropiate, he managed to shut his mouth and nod. Just like the obedient dog that he was... Sansa left the dining room to get ready, and Sandor excused himself from the presence of the Lannisters, going then to the front door. He stepped outside of the Red Keep and asked the guard there to bring one of the cars. The car was brought a minute later, a black Mercedes with blackened and bullet-proof windows. Sandor entered the car and sat on the driver's seat, putting the keys on to start the engine, and he waited there for Sansa Stark to come out of the Red Keep. At exactly the tine that she had said he saw her walking out the front door and she opened the door to sit on the back seat, just like the night before. She buckled in, and Sandor started driving away to leave the mansion's terrains and get into the road. "Where do you want to go?" ge asked, his voice revealing that he wasn't in a very good mood. "To the mall" she said, and Sandor frowned. To the mall? Really? Was there any worse torture?! "As I said before, I have some things to buy." "And couldn't you get someone else to do the shopping for you, girl?" he rasped, maybe in a harsher tone that he had intended, but really the idea of expending an entire day with a young woman shopping didn't attract him at all. Sansa narrowed her eyes, staring at him through the rear mirror. "No. I want to do it myself." "Are you so desperate to get out of the Red Keep?" he couldn't stop himself, the words just poured out of his mouth. He had seen the way in which she acted that morning... It seemed that the only reason why Sansa Stark had had breakfast with her fiancée and future mother-in-law was because she had needed to, not because she wante to. "No" the young woman said, though her voice shook when she spoke. Sandor didn't believe it. He could smell a lie, just like dogs could smell fear. "Do you even like Joffrey?" again, he couldn't stop himself. He disn't know what was happening to him. He was always able to keep his mouth shut whenever he had an opinion about something, but he had ni idea why this conversation with Sansa Dtark was bothering him so much. He just felt a kind of... fury, deep inside him that he couldn't describe. Sansa looked alarmed by such a daring question coming out of one of her fiancée's employees. "Why do you ask that?!" That wasn't a no or a yes. "Hey, I've known Joffrey since he was almost a baby. He's a fucking unbearable brat, so it would be perfectly understandable if you did not love him." Sansa was opening and closing her mouth multiple times nervously, trying to answer. She was having some difficulties with it. "I love Joffrey more than anything or anyone in the world" she managed to say, and she turned her gaze away, stopping to stare at the bodyguard through the rear mirror and instead she looked outside the window, at the streets and people passing by. Sandor raised an eyebrow in response to her words. He wanted to make some rude reply, some sarcastic comeback, he wanted to say something to shake the girl up and get her to confess that she was lying. If there was one thing tat he hated in this world, it was liars. The pretty singer doesn't love that fucking spoiled brat! he thought for himself. She wants what they all want. Let it be his pretty face, or his fame, or his last name or his money. So what if that didn't make sense? It didn't make sense for a very simple reason: Sansa already has all those things on her own, she didn't need Joffrey Baratheon! That's what the good side of Sandor was telling him. The bad side, though, was saying: women always want more, no matter what. Because she can't be with him because of his cock, can she? the sole thought made him lought out loud without realizing it. He had heard what other women had said about his bosse's skill in bed. They said that Joffrey Baratheon was as good in bed just as much as the Lannisters were poor. When he had laughed, Sansa Stark had her attention drawn back to him, and she raised an eyebrow just as he had before. Sandor was back to being serious now, and he didn't stare back at her through the rear mirror. They didn't talk again until they reached the mall. Sandor parked, and Sansa got out of the car without even saying a word. "Hey!" Sandor called after her, getting out of the car too. "Wait, girl!" "Why do I have to wait? I thought it was you who had to follow, so keep up" Sansa shot back at him, and he almost stopped dead on his tracks, stunned by the sudden fierceness in the young woman's voice. She can have a temper, alright he made a mental note to himself about that, and then he followed the redhead inside the mall. He got extremelly bored following the young woman from store to store, but he tried to at least entertain himself by observing what she was shopping for. Sansa had put on a pair of dark sun-glasses and a scarf covered part of her hair so that it would be harder to recognize her (thought both of them doubted that would work) and she looked at various dresses and other pieces of clothing, jewelry, shoes... She even stopped in a bookstore for a bit and eyed some books that were there. Sandor wasn't able to see the title of the books, though he was curious to know, but before he could take a look Sansa went out of the bookstore and he had to follow. "Are you mad?" Sansa asked suddenly, surprising him. When she saw that Sandor was confused, she explained herself. " Are you mad because you have to take care of me? Again, I mean." He grunted. "A dog only follows orders." "But you are not a dog, you are a person" she protested. "I prefer dogs to people." "You haven't answered my question." He sighed. What did she care?! "I'm not particularly happy about this job" she admitted. "I don't have time to lose taking care of little girls" he ignored the slightly offended expression in Sansa's face "but after last night I admit that maybe you do need protection from crazy fans. Buggering idiots..." Sansa sighed. They walked into another store, and there was a very fancy dress on a mannequin. It was of dark green silk, cut over the knees, with a tight bodice and sleeveless, and very elegant. Sandor thought it would look good on the girl, but he shook the thought out of his head. He heard Sansa whispering something under her breath as she touched the dress. "It isn't from them from whom I need protection..." Sandor frowned again. What did she mean by that? Who else was there that could possibly be a threat to her? Oh, yes, she wasn't only involved in the world of fame and music, but also in politics. "As Joffrey's fiancée, you will be safe. No one wants to wake up the wrath of the Lannisters. And if you are worried that the fuckers who got your Daddy will come to get you too, don't worry. They already killed him, no one has any use for you now that you can't be used against him." He should have not said that, he should have not said that! He wanted to bite his own tongue off, but he could not take back what he had already said. He had never seen such a sad face on anyone's face ever before. Sansa Stark's were full of tears, tears that she was fighting back, and she looked like her heart had been broken in a million pieces inside her chest. Sandor wanted to say he was sorry, but the words didn't come out of his mouth. "Why do you have to be so hateful?" Sansa whispered before walking right past beside him and leaving him behind. Sandor was left there standing alone, and he felt like he had just been hit on the head with a giant rock. What the fuck had that been? Because he was the girl's bodyguard and he could leave her alone, he walked to join her, standing just a few feet behind her. She was talking to one of the stores employees, asking to get the dress brought to her. While she was waiting for her orders to be carried, she turned around and looked at Sandor. The tears had disappeared from her eyes, but he could see that she was still very upset. "As for today, you are my bodyguard, and you will do exactly as I tell you" she said, her voice shaking a bit. "And right now I'm telling you that you are not to speak a word to me at all, unless I command you otherwise. Understood?" Slowly, Sandor nodded, looking at the girl thought his dark glasses. Later, Sansa tried the dress on when it was brought to her, she liked it, and so she bought it. They left the store and walked around for a bit more of time. In the end, Sansa was carrying lots of bags with different items, and she hadn't spoken a word to Sandor at any moment, and as commanded, he didn't speak a word to her either. He just observed her the entire time, and he could not help but wonder what a lot was that that pretty girl was hiding. For whatever it was, Sandor could feel that it wasn't anything good. It wasn't anything good at all.

The road to Quantico was long, but every mile was a mile closer to the most important thing in his life, his future. A new career, a new home, Spencer, the baby, it was all so much, he was glad he was getting the extra time to settle before the baby was born. Frank was good company, but Derek had known he would be. He found it hard to stay awake driving along the boring Interstate, but thankfully Frank fell asleep and snored like a chainsaw next to him. Derek was unable to even contemplate dozing off while the other man made such noise. Even Clooney woke from his slumber and seemed to be giving the other man an incredulous look every time he inhaled. At one stage he stared at his owner with a look of disbelief on his face causing the man to burst out laughing as he continued their journey. They stopped to eat three times, and decided on different areas to let Clooney out to walk and do his business. While sitting on the side of a bench waiting for the dog it finish sniffing the area on one of their stops, Derek noticed Frank’s demeanour. “You alright old man?” “Hey, don’t get lippy with me and we, actually where the hell are we?” “Not too far outside Pittsburgh.” Derek informed him. “We’re over half way now. Frank, thank you. I mean it; you didn’t have to do this.” “I wanted to Derek; you’ve been a good friend, especially after my divorce. And for letting me stay in one of your places. Not many people do that sort of thing these days without expecting something in return; you never even asked me when I planned on moving out.” “Jesus Frank, you were kicked out of your home by a bitch of a woman who cheated on you left, right and centre, I would never have pressured you to get out. How are your kids by the way?” “Good, Charlotte is in her Senior Year this year. She’s applied to NYU for Computer Sciences, she should get it. Michael is on the school baseball team, he’s good too, and I get to see the most of his games. And Emma is starting to realise there’s such a thing as make-up, so she’s breaking my heart to try and get her some.” “How often do you see them?” “Michael I see the most, mainly because Sarah couldn’t be bothered going to his games, and I don’t want to miss one. Charlotte I usually only ever see every other Saturday, and Emma I see at least once a week. She’s a darling, but she has me wrapped around her little finger and she bloody knows it.” He smiled fondly. Listening to the other man, Derek couldn’t help but feel saddened. It had not been his fault the marriage ended, unlike Rogers he had been a good husband, and had taken his marriage vows seriously, sadly in his case, his wife had not done the same, and he was the one paying for it. “I miss them terribly sometimes you know. Especially at Christmas and Thanksgiving.” Frank looked at his friend in the eye then “You’re a smart man Derek, so don’t do anything stupid, but don’t put up with anything stupid either. It ain’t worth it. Trust me.” Derek nodded and smiled. “So what about your little fella, have ye decided on a name yet?” Derek shook his head. “We are shortlisting our favourites, then discussing them.” “He’s letting you have a say? I didn’t even get a choice in her shortlists. I can’t wait to meet this man, you struck gold, you lucky son of a bitch!” “Apart from the comment about my Mamma, you’re damn right.” CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM It was nearly three in the morning when the two men hit Quantico. Rather than heading to Derek’s, as it wasn’t ready for anyone to even sleep in yet. Penelope had sent him the directions to Rossi’s house. Though as the two men looked at it, they agreed mansion would have been a more appropriate term. The oldest profiler must have heard the truck pull up, because the porch light turned on, followed quickly by the man coming to the door in this pyjamas and night gown. Derek couldn’t stifle a snort of laughter behind the wheel of the truck at the man in his nightwear. Even Frank found it somewhat funny having seen the profiler in a seminar before himself. Both men exited the cabin followed by a somewhat anxious Clooney. The dog bolted to the nearest tree and seemed to sigh in relief as his relieved himself on it, before running back to his master, who was heading for the man at the door. “Agent Rossi, great to see you again, this is my close friend and now ex work colleague Frank Simmons, and the animal drooling all over your slippers is Clooney.” “Please, just Dave. Frank, good to meet you.” he extended his hand to the man. “And I can see someone lives up to his bad reputation.” He said looking down at the lopsided grin of the dog staring up at him. “How is he with other dogs?” “He’s fine, most of the time. He has an issue with some toy breeds. They tend to irritate him with the incessant yapping.” “Him and me both. I have a hunting dog; he’s in the back room though he’s not the friendliest at three in the morning.” “Who is?” asked Frank, receiving a chuckle from the two others. “So there is plenty of room in the garage.” Rossi finished. “I’ll get his crate and bedding from the truck and he’ll be out like a light in fifteen.” Derek smiled, walking back to the truck to retrieve said items. He looked around to see he had not been followed. On returning to the house he saw his dog having his ears scratched by Rossi absentmindedly as he spoke to Frank about their journey. “I’ll show you where to set up. By the way, why Clooney?” the man asked. “Thanks. It was my sister really. She’s a bit of a Clooney fan, she went to see some movie of his and when she came to my place afterwards she was talking about it as I was settling my new pup. She said Clooney and the dog responded.” He had the crate up in minutes, and the dog settled immediately, taking a few licks of water as he did so. “He’s a fine dog, well trained too. How did Reid react to him?” “I went to get his bag from my car, when I returned to the house I found him standing on the sofa screaming for his life.” Rossi bellowed laughing on hearing that. “So the story he told me of him and animals not mixing is true then?” the profiler nodded. “But after I convinced him to let Clooney sniff his hand they got on really well.”“I have to admit, I would have paid a lot of money to see Reid in that position. He does not react well to situations outside his comfort zone.” “Really? Can’t say I noticed.” Both men laughing at the sarcastic comment. “Thank you; thank all of you for doing this. You have no idea how grateful I am.” “You’re a good man Det…Derek and you have no idea how much Spencer means to us as a family. He is one of the greatest minds I have had the pleasure to work with, and one of the greatest men I have had the pleasure of knowing.” Derek smiled at the other man speaking so fondly of Spencer. “When we heard Spencer was pregnant, he was too ashamed to tell us that he had not even known you, we all agreed, to ourselves before declaring it as a group to help him, in whatever way we could. He would do it in a heartbeat for us; he has done it for us, each of us, in his own unique way. Now let me show you to your room, it’s nearly three thirty and we all have long days ahead of us tomorrow. Spencer and I are going to be in Georgetown until the afternoon, Hotch, Will, Prentiss, and Garcia will be to the house at nine. JJ is taking Henry and Jack to the zoo, leaving you until about four to be sorted.” “Okay, I will get Penelope to keep in contact with you with our progress. We can do this right?” “Derek Morgan, in the fifteen years I’ve known you, I have never heard you doubt yourself like this, and in the eight years you’ve been doing houses up, you have never missed a deadline, now add five more people helping you and you will have this done in no time!” CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM Derek woke with a start at the harsh sound of his alarm. He looked at it. Seven AM. He was convinced he was some sort of sadist for inflicting this on himself as he rose out of the bed and went over to the bag he had brought specifically with what he needed for the next twelve hours in it and pulled out a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a pair of trainers and got dressed. Once he went down the stairs of the profilers somewhat extravagant home, he went to the garage and put Clooney’s lead on and proceeded to jog down the street. He was careful to keep track of what turns he made as he jogged, hoping not to get lost on the way back, it would be humiliating if he had to ring Rossi to ask him for directions to his house. The jog was pleasant and Clooney was more than happy with it after his day of confinement the day before. As the re-entered the profilers house the sound of clawed paws scraped across the floor and Clooney suddenly stuck his tail up and wagged it side to side at the sound of an approaching animal. Mudgie, Rossi’s dog, rounded the corner and froze suddenly when it came face to face with the other dog. A mutual tail wagging and a sniffing later and both dogs were running around the back garden chasing one another as though playing tag. But seven forty-five Rossi got a phone call off Hotch to say the team were ready at the house and that Reid was going to be waiting for Rossi at the office, the three men and two dogs left the house. “You sure you don’t mind taking him?” Rossi asked as he watched Mudgie follow Clooney to the truck. “He’s no trouble. You saw the yard on this place; they’ll have plenty of space. Better there with company than sitting in a laundry room here alone.” Rossi seemed to agree with the younger man’s suggestion as he saluted the two men getting into the truck as he reversed out his own car and drove off to meet the teams unsuspecting youngest. “Ready for this?” Frank asked as they drove to the house. “Ask me when it’s done.”

When Yuuri and Victor suggested skipping out on practice for the day, Yuri was all too happy to go along with it. He had the entire day, two people who were more than willing to stick around, and more energy than he was used to anymore. Today was going to be a good day, Yuri was sure. “When did you get here?” he asked. They walked along the sidewalk together, Yuri sandwiched between the two older men. Though it was cold, and there were snowflakes catching in his hair, he felt warm. They didn’t touch him, but walked close enough that he could comfortably reach out for them if he so desired. Victor shrugged, an easy grin on his lips. “Last night. We were going to tell you we landed earlier, but somebody was jet lagged.” Yuuri sent a playful frown over at his boyfriend. “Well, sorry, some people don’t handle it well.” Victor laughed, pulling a begrudging chuckle from the younger man too. Yuri walked along quietly, a small smile in place. This was nice… Refreshing, almost. Maybe he didn’t like going into town with Lilia or Georgi, or even Nikita, but the two older skaters brought an air of lightness to everything. They didn’t pressure him about what happened nearly five days ago. There was no worried glancing, careful watching, or constant touching. They just let him be. For now, anyway. Yuri knew that at some point, they would ask. Victor and Yuuri would give up the charade of trusting him, treating him normally, acting like nothing happened. Subconsciously, Yuri’s eyebrows pulled together and his smile turned down. Yuuri noted that when he turned to look at the younger. “Alright, Yuri. Is there any place you’d like to go?” the black haired man asked. The blonde kept looking ahead as he shrugged, his expression shocked back to a resting flatline, which Yuuri supposed was a little better than a frown. “Window shopping it is.” Victor decided. Yuri nodded and followed along as Victor sped up a little. * Hours later, the three were sitting at a fast food restaurant, eating lunch. Yuri was back to smiling and laughing, teasing Yuuri every once in awhile, though not harshly the way he had before. (Yuuri found the change rather nice.) “Yuri, how’s practice going?” “Fine, I guess. It’s nothing spectacular.” Yuri responded, chewing slowly. He found himself not really all that hungry, but willing to eat. At home, his grandfather occasionally had to fight him on eating. It varied from day to day who won those fights. “That’s alright. It’s just practice, after all.” Victor assured. It was quiet for a few moments, just the sound of other conversations floating around them. “How long will you be here?” Yuri asked, not looking up from his food. “A week and a half. After that we’ll have to head back to Japan and finish out practice for the Grand Prix.” Yuri nodded. A week and a half seemed like a long time for a visit, but he knew from experience just how short that can be. Before he knew it, Victor and yuuri would be gone. They finished eating in an almost comfortable silence. When they got up to leave, Victor pulled Yuuri into his side under his arm, and held Yuri closer on his other side. Neither fought it as they walked along, unconsciously making for the exit of the mall to leave and walk home. Victor and Yuuri allowed the teen to lead them back to the ice rink (even though Victor was sure he could find it) where they found Nikolai waiting in the car for them. Yuri and Yuuri climbed into the back as Victor took the passenger seat next to the older man. “Hello, Yuri. Did you have a good time?” Nikolai asked. He seemed strangely emotionless as he asked. Yuri smiled brightly, nodding his head. At that, a contented smile grew and settled on the old man’s face. “Good, I am glad. What did you do?” “Not much. We walked around the mall and got something to eat before coming back.” Yuri said. He looked out the window, watching buildings pass by on their way back to his house. He wondered if Victor and Yuuri would stay the rest of the day and if he’d be able to introduce them to Nikita. The brunette and his family weren’t leaving for vacation for a few day, and Yuri had every intention of taking advantage of that time. After a second, Yuuri was starting up another conversation with the blonde, asking about his friends and how everyday life went for him. Yuri assumed this was to either distract him from his thoughts or just so that the brown eyed man could get a feel for what he was in for for the next week and a half. So he told Yuuri about Nikita and Stepan Taylor and the general bore that every day was. As he talked, he heard Victor and his grandfather slip into Russian and speak quietly to each other. He tried to pick up on the conversation, but all he caught was “worried” and “time bomb”. Yuri tried not to let that get him down. He pushed those words away as he focussed on the joke Yuuri had just made. He laughed at it, the sound coming out a little forced, though he was fairly certain the man didn’t catch onto it. * Yesterday had been light. It had been easy. Today very much like that too, though Yuri felt higher. He woke up like he was soaring on a cloud. He got ready in a whirlwind of motion, finding himself dressed and ready before Nikolai was even out of bed. Despite the dark and the cold outside, Yuri was up and ready to do something, so he headed out to take a jog before anyone else was even contemplating getting up yet. He took the pace a little faster than he usually did, going around the block and then the nearby park before going back. He wasn’t sure just how long he’d been gone, but it seemed like a while, given that the park was by no means small and had quite a few winding paths that he’d followed. Yuri could feel himself floating higher than he usually did, a crazy sort of excitement growing in his chest, ready for him to start the day and get a move on. As he opened the back door and came into the house, Yuri heard hurried footsteps coming towards him. As he entered the living room, his grandfather, Victor, and Yuuri came into the room. They all wore similarly worried expressions, their eyebrows furrowed and high on their foreheads, frowns on their lips. “Yuri!” they all called at the same time. The blonde stopped in his tracks, one hand halfway reached up to pull the tie from his hair. “What?” he said. “Where were you?!” “You’ve been gone for two hours!” “Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?” Yuri stared at them blankly for several breaths, the three adults watching him for any sign of an answer. After a moment, he smiled at them. “Oh, sorry. I must have forgotten.” Yuri pulled his hair out of its ponytail and shook it out, ruffling it a bit as he moved towards his bedroom. “W-what? You forgot?” his grandfather demanded. “Sorry, Grandpa.” Yuri said with a smile, pulling off his jacket and tossing it on his bed. He picked up his phone from where he must have left it on his bedside table. There were a few notifications on his twitter, and a snap from Nikita. He lifted the phone, took a selfie, and sent it back with the caption “Morning, Kita ;3”. He was vaguely aware of a hurried, rather frustrated sounding argument going on in the kitchen, and was a little startled to realize it was in Russian. With Yuuri in the house, they were all making a point to stay in English for his sake. “Yuri…” He turned to look at the speaker. Yuuri stood outside his bedroom door, a hand on the doorframe. “Are you alright?” “I feel great!” Yuri assured. “Uh, well, maybe you should take a day off?” Yuuri said, gaze twitching back and forth between Yuri’s eyes, looking for any giveaway. “Why? Today’s going to be awesome, you’ll see.” * The day had gone rather well. Practice was good, and Yuri felt more confident in his skating and ballet than he had in awhile. Yakov and Lilia were impressed with Yuri’s improved mood and confidence. He’d worn short sleeves that day, pulling on his favorite purple shirt that had a glittery, glowing tiger on it. The sparkly pink bracelet was almost sort of reflective, but not nearly as much as Yuri was. On the ice he seemed to shine brighter than the sun, his smile off the ice twinkling like stars. The crash came at one o’clock in the morning, the house dark and silent except for Yuri’s room. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, lying to his grandfather and coaches, though unable to convince Victor and Yuuri. For the sake of keeping things calm, they hadn’t said anything about it, but Yuri could feel them watching him, keeping near him though not smothering him the way everyone else had. Somewhere around eleven, Yuri couldn’t remember what happened. His memory went blank, black space occupying two hours of time before he came back to reality again. The next thing he knew was curled up on the shower floor, hands gripping at his sides and eyes squeezed shut as tears slipped down his face, mixing with the hot water spraying down on him. He must have screamed. He could feel the vibrations in his throat, ripping it raw, but he couldn’t hear anything. It was like the world was on mute. He could see the side of the tub, the water running down the drain, his nails beginning to dig into skin, but there was no sound. He didn’t hear the door as it banged open. He didn’t hear the worried cries as Victor shut off the water and hauled him bodily out of the shower. He didn’t hear his own unintelligible babbling or Victor shushing him, pulling a towel around his body and all but dragging him from the bathroom. The world sped up, blurring to something like a movie on fast forward. Yuuri was rubbing a towel over his hair and combing it out gently. Victor dug out the softest pair of lounge pants Yuri owned, asking the blonde to put them on. Vaguely, he remembered shuffling into the pants, the fluffy material acting almost like a cushion on his legs. He rubbed his fingers over it again and again, the world slowing down again to normal, a vague buzzing bringing sound back to his world. Yuuri was whispering quietly, pulling the comb through damp blonde hair, continuing to work it as it dried. Victor had disappeared quietly, coming back just as suddenly. He laid things out on the bed before Yuri’s crossed legs. There were paintbrushes and a rainbow of face paint containers. Victor looked at Yuri, saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. Everything was still too soft, too quiet for him to pick up on much. Suddenly Victor was leaning closer, sitting on the side of the bed and bringing his lips an inch from the blonde’s ear. “Let me show you something.” Victor said. Without thinking, Yuri nodded, agreeing to whatever it was that the silver haired man had in mind. Victor was leaning away again, grabbing a paintbrush and the bottle of purple paint. Yuri watched closely as Victor dipped the brush in the paint and brought it to Yuri’s arm. The place he picked was riddled with healing scratches and soft pink scars crossing together. The man spread purple all over Yuri’s arm, settling the brush back in the bottle when he was done with it. Another brush was dipped into the red, swirls appearing in the purple, mixing. A few minutes and the paint was drying a little, blue dots and circles added on top. There didn’t seem to be any picture in mind, no rhyme or reason to the patterns Victor created on Yuri’s skin. As time went on, the paint spread further up and down his arm, reaching towards his shoulder and wrist. Something about it eased the tightening in the blonde’s chest. Watching as inaccurate triangles and squares appeared in green and yellow, orange stars joining them along the back of his hand and his fingers, a bright blue smiley face suddenly winking at him from his palm. Yuri’s face stayed still, a flatline of polite interest. The feeling he of wanting to rip at his skin was easing, draining out of him and leaving him feeling better, watching paint slowly dry on his skin, the soft slide of the brush tickling him. When Victor was done, he set the paints and brushes aside on the nearly over cluttered bedside table. “Do you like it?” Victor asked. Yuri realized that his hair was still being combed steadily, the strands now almost dry. He nodded vaguely, eyes moves over the rainbow of swirls layered up his arm. “You can do that too.” Yuri looked up at the man then. “When you find yourself where you were a moment ago, you can paint yourself instead of hurting.” Victor told him. “I did it too when I was younger. When I couldn’t sleep, I used to paint pictures all up and down my legs until I could fall asleep. Sometimes I’d paint for hours until I passed out. It worked a lot better than ripping my skin apart.” “How?” Yuri asked, his throat tightening painfully from his screaming. “It makes you focus. If you concentrate on that, making something you’re proud of, it distracts from that which may cause you pain.” Victor explained. Yuri looked up, locking eyes with Victor’s blue green ones then. “Like it?” the man asked again. Yuri smiled absently, nodding. “Why don’t you try?” Yuri looked down to the paints on the table, deciding on the black one, and starting with a new brush. He sat up straighter, looking down at his stomach. Laying in an awful, half scabbed, half scarred lines were the words идеально (perfect) and сломанный (broken). Slowly, the scene of a sunset in black and red and pink came to life over top of the words that he couldn’t really read anyway. Skin is not meant to have words cut into it. Tiny yellow dots acted as stars, white clouds tinged purple. By the time he finished, Yuri’s eyes were drooping low, the paintbrush held loosely in his hand. Sleep was peaceful and dark, filling with images of beautiful sunsets and swirling rainbow stars.

Tommy held as still as he could, trying to slow his heavy breathing into something quieter. His tail was wrapped around his abdomen tightly, slightly squashed due to his laying on top of it. He ignored his discomfort, focusing on staying as narrow as possible so as to not be seen on top of the rafter from the main floor of the warehouse. Far below him, Hypnos paced around, occasionally checking behind crates and around corners, but never leaving the area in which Wilbur lay unconscious on the ground. Technically, Tommy could leave right now and not be caught. The rafters he was hiding in were only a foot or two above some open windows. He could easily slip through and make a run for it without Hypnos even noticing. But that would require leaving Wilbur. Tommy sort of wanted to cry. Not out of fear, but shame. Wilbur had told him the plan; told him it would rely on Tommy’s independent capabilities after Wilbur was knocked out. But once Hypnos had touched him, putting him to sleep instantly, Tommy had immediately messed it all up. He didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t care about beating Hypnos– he just wanted to grab his brother and get away. “Mellohi?” Hypnos’s voice called out to him. It was soothing, gentle. As if he wasn’t trying to arrest Tommy. “Are you still here? We can talk this out, just come here.” How dumb did this guy think he was? In any other situation, he might have made a witty reply, but not now. His brain was too focused on not being caught. He couldn’t spare any brain cells for being funny. Tommy started weighing the odds of him escaping successfully if he just risked it all, jumped down, picked up Wilbur, and bolted. He was faster than Hypnos, stronger, and more agile. But Wilbur wasn’t exactly small, and would definitely slow him down significantly. And Hypnos only needed a single touch to take him out. No, he had to be smarter. Looking around, Tommy tried to spot anything that could help him out of his predicament. The warehouse was filled with moderately sized wooden crates, but there really wasn’t anything else even remotely useful. Maybe he could open one? No, they were too tightly sealed, he would need a crowbar of some sort. But maybe he could knock them over to cause a distraction? That could work. He could buy himself just enough time to grab Wilbur and get out of there. But if Hypnos noticed and gave chase, how far would they get? There was nothing but other warehouses in this area, but maybe he could hide in one of them? Were they unlocked, though? Tommy scowled in frustration, pushing down the urge to hit something. He had his phone on him. Maybe he could call Tubbo? The sound would attract Hypnos, but if Tubbo were nearby, his luck would probably get them out of this. But if he were too far, Tommy was screwed. Did magic luck even work through the phone? Probably not. They would have to test that later, if Tommy made it out of this. “Mellohi?” Hypnos was still wandering around, looking for him. The chances of him looking in the rafters were slim, as he didn’t have the skills necessary to reach them, but if he spotted Tommy he might move closer to Wilbur to better guard him. Tommy needed to act quick. His best bet was the distraction, so he would have to risk it. As stealthily as possible, he pushed himself up and began creeping through the rafters toward a stack of precariously balanced crates a fair distance away from Wilbur. Once he knocked them over, he would have to be quick so as not to be spotted. He was thankful for his tail; it helped him maintain his balance. Once he was directly above them, Tommy paused again, wondering what the best way to go about this was. Should he drop down on them? Then he might go down as well, which could lead to injury and capture. Just another situation that could be avoided with Tubbo’s luck. Fortunately, Wilbur had taught him to think these things through. Was there something he could throw? Would it even be heavy enough to knock the crates over? Probably not. Oh well, jumping it was. Holding tightly to the rafter with his padded hands, Tommy lowered himself slowly until he was dangling over the highest box. He squeezed his eyes shut, sent a prayer to Prime, and dropped lightly onto it. It teetered dangerously, and Tommy crouched quickly, trying to lean back to steady it. He wanted it to fall, but not while he was on it. Once it stopped wobbling, Tommy cast a quick glance at Hypnos, who didn’t seem all too concerned at not having found him yet, and crept over the edge to the crates below. He was strong enough to knock a fair amount of them off at once, but he would have to do it quickly. Setting his back against one of the crates near the base, Tommy planted his feet firmly in front of him, and pushed. It really was a shame he didn’t have Tubbo’s luck. Tommy had greatly overestimated just how much the crates would weigh, and as soon as he pressed his weight against them, they tipped over and fell. He didn’t have enough time to regain his balance, so he went right down with them. Crashing to the floor, Tommy accidentally whacked his head against something hard, and layed still while trying to blink the stars out of his vision. He moved to get up, but the hand that suddenly appeared in front of him– one finger mere inches away, pointing directly at his forehead– stopped him. “Nice of you to show yourself.” Hypnos spoke casually, as if Tommy hadn’t just caused a giant mess. The crates had split open, dumping that appeared to only be packing peanuts across the floor. Who had a warehouse full of nothing but packing peanuts? Tommy stared at the hand in front of him with distaste. “Any way we can do this without you knocking me out? I heard it can cause some serious brain damage.” “What? No it doesn’t, that’s not how my power works.” Hypnos furrowed his eyebrows. “Yeah it does. Forcibly putting the body to sleep has a pretty high chance of causing brain damage no matter what the method is,” Tommy provided helpfully. “No,” Hypnos scoffed, “Haven’t you heard of anesthesiology?” “Yeah, but that’s heavily regulated by professionals. Have you ever taken a course on anesthesiology? Do you even know what kind of lasting effects your power has? When was the last time you actually checked up on someone you put to sleep?” Tommy pointed out. Hypnos pulled his hand away and stared at it in contemplative silence for a moment. “Maybe you’re right.” What– wait? Did that actually just work? He decided to push his luck. “Yeah, man. Maybe you should go visit some of them, see how they’re doing, you know? It would be pretty awful of you to keep using your power without checking first.” Tommy couldn’t see Hypnos’s eyes behind his dark goggles, but he could have sworn he heard the man sniffle. “Yeah, man. I don’t know what I was thinking… I never wanted to hurt people.” His shoulders were shaking– he was definitely crying now. “Hey, it’s okay, man…” Tommy tried to awkwardly offer comfort. This really wasn’t going as planned. He was feeling strangely guilty. “You didn’t know; it’s not too late to turn things around.” Hypnos nodded, but said nothing through the barely concealed sobs that were wracking his body. He turned, half walking, half stumbling away. Tommy watched him go in complete shock. He had really just guilt tripped a hero into walking away from a fight. And in less than a minute. How much of an idiot was that guy? He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the pain in his head flared, and simply continued to stare at the entrance of the warehouse that Hypnos had just walked out of. Oh, right, there was a reason he had wanted him gone. Tommy snapped back to reality and jogged over to where Wilbur had been left unceremoniously laying on the floor, only to find two new figures crouching over him. One was a woman with straight, bright pink hair, easily recognizable as Niki, one of Wilbur’s long-time friends. Well, this was severely disappointing. Niki had the ability to manipulate other people’s emotions to a severe degree, which would explain why Hypnos had suddenly become so emotional and left. It hadn’t been Tommy’s doing. This was honestly the worst way this could have gone. The other individual crouched next to Niki was someone Tommy didn’t know the name of. He was young, but bald, which was a very unnerving juxtaposition. Tommy recalled that he had a pretty useless power. Something about… really slow teleportation? That seemed right. “Hey, Hestia,” Tommy called to Niki, using her hero name just in case Bald Man didn’t know her outside work. “And… Hestia’s sidekick?” Whoops, that sounded too much like a question. Bald Man threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Tommy, we’ve been friends for literal years. And Niki’s my partner, I’m not her sidekick.” Niki giggled, “I dunno, you’re kind of my sidekick.” She winked playfully, clearly teasing. “WHA–” Bald Man used a mock offended tone, but was clearly in on the joke. Not so much when he spoke to Tommy. “My name is–” “Hestia, do you think you can help me get Wilbur back home? He’s pretty heavy,” Tommy interrupted, still using Niki’s alias. He didn’t trust Bald Man, even if he claimed to supposedly be a friend. “Sure thing,” Niki nodded in agreement before turning to her sidekick. “Could you lend a hand as well?”   Bald Man, who had been opening his mouth to yell at Tommy, snapped it closed and nodded. “Yeah, for sure.” “I’m not sure I want him knowing my address,” Tommy admitted to Niki. “I’ve been to your house dozens of times!” Bald Man cried indignantly. Niki only laughed and began maneuvering Wilbur into a manageable position. Tommy joined her, picking up his brother’s legs and holding them under his arms for a good grip. Both Niki and Bald Man grabbed one of Wilbur’s arms each. He really was a heavy man; it took all three of them to carry him, and even then it was a struggle. Maybe it was because he was so lanky, and they kept accidentally dragging him on the ground. Oh well, it’s not like Wilbur would mind. With surprisingly few mistakes– aside from bumping his head against a few walls and occasionally dropping him entirely– they managed to bring Wilbur home. Tommy insisted Bald Man wait outside, much to his protest, but Tommy told him he didn’t want him to know anymore than he already did. He didn’t trust Bald Man’s insistence that he had been in their house before; he had probably broken in while they were all asleep or something creepy like that. Niki helped Tommy place Wilbur on the couch somewhat gently. And by gently, he meant lifting him a bit higher, swinging him, letting go, and hoping for the best. There was no way they could be more careful when it was only the two of them. Tommy draped a blanket over him. “I appreciate the help,” Tommy genuinely thanked her. “We would have been in some serious trouble if it weren’t for you.” “Anytime, Tommy. You’re like a little brother to me, and Wil’s a good friend.” She smiled in return. Tommy wiggled his eyebrows a bit when she said Wilbur was just a friend and it turned into a playful scowl. She smacked him lightly on the arm. “Just a friend.” “Okaaaaay,” Tommy sounded unconvinced, but backed off when she raised her hand again. “Sorry, sorry, just messing around.” He knew they were just friends. Sally seemed to be the one for Wilbur, as much as Tommy hated that fact. “Uh huh,” she chuckled fondly. “Do you want to stick around for when Wilbur wakes up? He’ll probably wanna give you some big thank you speech,” Tommy asked politely. He really didn’t want to have to sit through said speech, but he also didn’t want Wilbur to whine about how Tommy should’ve been more hospitable and invited her to stay. “No thanks, I shouldn’t keep Jack waiting.” “Who?” Niki laughed and Tommy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to figure out what was funny. “Goodbye, Tommy. Have a good day.” She gave him a short hug and left. And so Tommy was left alone in a far too empty house with only his unconscious brother to keep him company. He decided to call Tubbo. — Tommy flopped down backward onto his bed, ignoring the way the old springs dug into his back. He had considered switching his bed for one of the unused ones– no, he was going to stop that thought right there. Tubbo did the same, spreading his arms out wide and whacking Tommy in the face. Tommy kicked him. “Ow!” Tubbo rolled onto his side to hit Tommy more efficiently, only to somehow hit his heel on the bed frame and gasp in pain, curling in on himself, which resulted in his shifting weight to send him toppling out of the bed entirely. He was now laying on the floor, out of Tommy’s sight, making no move to get up. “I think I’ll stay down here. It’s safer.” “That’s what you get for being a prick,” Tommy laughed. “Hey! I came all this way to see you!” Tubbo whined with no real annoyance in his voice. “You’re so clingy. What did you wanna talk about, anyway? It sounded important when you called.” Tommy scowled. “I’m not clingy. And I dunno. Just some weird stuff going on lately.” “Weird like what?” “Well, do you remember what I told you about Lelantos attacking Wil and me? We ran into another hero today. Hypnos. In a warehouse, too. What was he even doing there? That’s twice that we’ve run into high ranking heroes in our regular patrol spots.” They had gone literal years without facing even a fraction of this trouble. I mean, sure, there had been that one supervillain a few years ago that had given them some trouble, but back then the heroes had taken matters into their own hands. Now they were on opposite sides for some reason. “Huh. That is weird. You guys haven’t been doing anything different, right?” Tubbo rolled onto his stomach and put his chin on his fists. “No, we’re laying low like always. We can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves.” Tommy groaned and rubbed at his face. “Well, Wilbur’s getting pretty popular. The lower class seems to really like him. The People’s Hero, or whatever.” “The People’s Hero? That’s even dumber than the one he picked on his own.” “Yeah, but it’s fitting, isn’t it?” “What do you mean?” “He patrols and fights for the lower class, but he’s also nice. He actually talks to people, and learns about what will actually help them. Other vigilantes don’t do that,” Tubbo pointed out. Tommy paused. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he supposed it was true. Wilbur had always had a way with words, and people of all kinds seemed to flock to him. Other vigilantes tried, but it just wasn’t the same. Wil was charming, and he knew it. People getting attached would make sense. Still, that wouldn’t be good in the long run. “Maybe he should stop patrolling for a while,” Tubbo suggested. “No, he would never do that. Even if we kept going, he wouldn’t let us do anything unsupervised.” Honestly, Tommy’s choice to be a vigilante was the reason Wilbur had become one as well. He would never let Tommy work alone. He had started for the sole reason of looking after his little brother, as much as Tommy protested and argued that he didn’t need help. “I guess you’re right.” “Maybe Wil doesn’t have anything to do with the heroes showing up. Maybe they're just finally taking responsibility for the rest of SMP.” Tommy looked up at his window. The curtains were partially drawn shut, and it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time, but he could still see one of the houses behind his own. They were in various stages of disrepair. It had been a long time since his neighbourhood had really cared about its appearance. “You really think so?” Tubbo sounded skeptical. That was fair. It was a laughable suggestion in the first place. “... no. If they really cared, they wouldn’t be trying to arrest the vigilantes.” Vigilantes did the work that the heroes didn’t want to, and then the heroes took the credit. There was no reason for the heroes to want the vigilantes gone. “Yeah,” Tubbo nodded in agreement. “Maybe it’s the government pushing them to get rid of us. I didn’t think the heroes really had a problem with us.” “That’s true; Lelantos and Hypnos didn’t really seem like they were trying really hard. They should’ve been way harder to beat.” But as far as Tommy knew, the government didn’t have final say on hero activities. It was a privatized industry; something that seemed pretty ironic considering the nature of the job. Most heroes earned their money from donations, sponsors, press events, and merchandise. “Do you think we could try to actually talk to them?” Tubbo shifted to sit up properly. “I don’t think Lelantos and Hypnos are our biggest fans at the moment, Tubs. Not after we embarrassed them like that.” Tommy smirked a bit, remembering Hypnos’s dramatic crying from earlier. Besides, who would listen to a couple of teens? As much as Tommy hated it, he knew most people didn’t take him seriously. “Fair enough, but they’re not the only heroes that people listen to.” Tommy paused. “Are you talking about Blaze?” If his favourite hero was on their side… “Nightmare, too. They could probably help. Blaze is chill, and Nightmare isn’t… openly against vigilantes. And they’re friends, so if we convince one of them, they might both listen.” “That’s true,” Tommy chuckled lowly, “It’s a shame we never got to actually meet them.” “Wha–” Tubbo caught on to what he was referring to. “Yeah. That was… yeah.” “Yeah.” They lapsed into silence, neither willing to discuss further. Tommy stared around at the walls of his room. Peeling paint, old posters of his favourite superheroes, an aroace flag, dozens of drawings done in permanent marker closer to the ground, and a few odd markings that looked like burns more than they did runes. Focusing in on the runes, Tommy frowned. He held his hand up to his face; the one with the ring he had stolen from Fundy. His eyes widened.

*** It was a gulley, deep and washed out over many years. There was a big culvert pipe down from him that ran under the road to keep it from washing out instead, and Minho hobbled to it, hiding in the far shadow of it and gasping for air. If someone was willing to run him off the road, and back into the car, they might’ve been willing to follow him down the embankment, too. He didn’t exactly hear screeching wheels but it was a clear sound of a vehicle driving away, and he exhaled, leaning against the pipe. It took a few minutes to get his heart to settle, but he took stock of what was around him. It wasn’t a bright day, but at least it wasn’t raining. He could’ve been stuck trying not to drown on top of everything else. He almost reached for his phone before he realized, no, it was still in the car. “Shit,” he muttered, leaning his head against the pipe again. If he could climb back up to the road, if the road was safe, he could maybe flag down someone passing by. Or someone would surely see the wreck. Chan had picked up before he’d had to get out of the car. He didn’t know if Chan had heard what’d happened or not. And there was a fear too that maybe whoever had run him off the road was going to come back and decide to come down after him, or come back with reinforcements. Or go after Chan? No, if Chan had heard, he’d come. He’d had to have known something was wrong for Minho to call and not answer him, and not answer if he called back. But the problem was Minho was in the ditch, not on the road. He used a tree to help himself stand, testing out his ankle. It had swollen a little bit already. He could stand on it, but it twinged. That was going to be an issue. He stayed as he was and just tried to think. He’d been well into the drive to the ranch. If Chan and Jeongin had been out in the pasture, it would’ve taken time to get back, to get the tack off the horses, to get in the truck. And then at least another five or ten minutes to get to where the car had crashed. He hadn’t heard anything tumbling down the hill after him, so he had to assume the truck hitting the car again had just squished it further into the trees. It would’ve had to have been visible still from the road. His ankle was getting stiffer by the minute, and he inhaled at sounds on the road. He waited, listening, at the sound of tires on the road’s shoulder. There was no way he could run, but the likelihood was more it was a passerby. Or police? At best, he could crawl into the culvert to hide. He strained to hear at the sound of voices, and his knees nearly gave at the sound of a sudden shout. “Minho?!” Chan. It was Chan. And then Jeongin calling Minho’s name right after him. “Here! Chan! Down here!” He didn’t realize how far he’d hobbled to get to the pipe until Chan came free of the bushes up the hill. Minho would have started right for him if he could have, but instead it was Chan jogging for him where he was clinging to a tree he’d made it to for support. “He’s here,” Chan called up for Jeongin, and then Chan was touching him, hugging him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” “I fucked up my ankle getting down here. But I’m okay.” “The car looks like a T-Rex stepped on it. My heart about left through my shoes but then I realized you weren’t in there. Fuck.” Chan brushed leaves and twigs out of his hair. From the bushes he’d slid through, Minho realized. He didn’t even care any more. He could’ve just sat right down there in the gully and let Chan stroke his hair, and he shivered a little against Chan’s chest. “Are you cold?” “No. Just. Adrenaline.” Shock? Maybe shock. “Good to see your face.” “It’s good to see yours. I got your call and heard this big crashing sound. Jeongin and I just kind of stared at each other for a minute and got in the truck. We called the police on the way. What happened?” He told Chan, and held out his hand, taking Jeongin’s and squeezing it as he came up to them too and listened to Minho’s explanation. “Door of the truck had a cow and two red lines,” Minho said. “I saw it as he ran me off the road the first time.” He’d never heard Chan curse quite that creatively, or seen Jeongin look quite that mad. “We’ll deal with that. Do you think we can get him up out of here?” Chan asked Jeongin, and then to Minho, “Or should we call an ambulance?” “Let’s try first,” Minho said. “I didn’t get hit very hard in the car. I mean, it spun me around and the tree caught the side of the car, but most of this was after. I should be okay?” If there hadn’t been a tree there, if the car had tumbled down the slope instead and caught a tree at higher speed, it might’ve been a different story. With both their help, they were all able to move up the gully a little further to where the slope up was a little longer, but less steep. With Chan and Jeongin holding him up, he was able to keep from hardly putting any weight on his foot, but he was sweating like he’d run a race by the time they made it. But they did, and it was the first time he saw the mangled wreckage. Sure, there was damage on the passenger’s side where the tree had “caught” him from going down the slope entirely, but he’d been skidding and slowing down by then. The worst of it was the driver’s side where the truck had hit. Minho’s door had been open and it was crushed at an unnatural angle, the door behind it dented in. Not enough that it would’ve killed him… Probably. But the impact? He’d have felt it. “My phone?” he said. It was still in the cradle, and after testing the car to be sure it wasn’t just going to fall away, Jeongin got that out and the bags that’d been in the trunk as Minho stood with Chan. “It looks awful—“ Minho said, grimacing at the stark damage. “I don’t care about the car,” Chan said. “There’s the police, finally. Let’s get you to the truck. If they need to talk to you, they can talk to you there. Here, hold onto me.” The truck wasn’t that far away down the road, but the thought of hopping any more made him so tired. At least, right up to the point where Chan lifted him up, just swept him right up into his arms and carried him as Minho clung to his neck. “Chan.” “If we both wouldn’t have fallen straight on our faces, I’d have gotten you up the slope that way, too,” Chan said. “Here, duck your head a little.” Jeongin had darted ahead of them, opening the door first, and Chan got him onto the higher seat of the truck. It was a maneuver, but Chan got him in safely, almost painlessly. He pulled an old coat out of somewhere, draping it on Minho’s shoulders. It smelled of hay and motor oil and he immediately snuggled into it. After he touched Minho’s face, Chan nodded, going to talk with the police officers. It was Chan the stern rancher talking to them, not the genial one, telling them Minho needed the hospital, to get checked out. He wasn’t so sure of that as he sagged against the seat back and pulled the coat closer, but he also wasn’t ready to fist fight Chan about it, either. He told his story a second time, explaining what he’d seen, what had happened. Chan confirmed what he’d heard from his own end of the line. “We’ll be in touch,” one officer said. Which meant they could go, and that Chan could slide into the driver’s seat. Minho ended up sandwiched between the two of them as Chan drove, and he didn’t mind it. He held Jeongin’s hand until it stopped trembling, but he couldn’t do that to Chan while he drove. He rested his head on Chan’s shoulder instead and closed his eyes against the pounding in his skull. *** A minor sprain to his ankle, a minor concussion as far as they could tell, and bumps, cuts, bruises. Pretty lucky, all told. And some of that was caused by the flight down the hill more than the accident itself. The doctor warned him he could be sore, that whiplash didn’t just show up all at once, and that sounded really fun and something to be anticipated. Chan was with him for as much of it as he could be, sitting next to the bed, holding Minho’s hand. He was allowed something clear to drink at least while he was waiting on the results of his scans. It was strange to think about, after they’d gotten his boot off, that the boot might’ve saved his ankle. Instead of a sprain, it could’ve broken, but for the extra support. He’d buy them leather conditioner as thanks, or something. “Hurry up and wait,” he said, laughing a little and thinking better of it when it pinged a muscle in his back. “Are you in any pain?” Chan asked. “No,” Minho said. “I just want to get out of here and go home.” He saw the momentary pause in Chan’s smile as he tried to parse what Minho meant. City home? Or the ranch? “You might have to take over Meadow for a while,” Minho told him. Chan squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of her. You just have to focus on getting better.” That he would do. He was deemed well enough to be ejected from the hospital, wheeled out to the truck that Jeongin had pulled around and he and his wrapped ankle helped up into it. Had he had lunch? He didn’t remember. The car was gone, they saw that as they drove past where the accident had been, though the scars in the road’s shoulder where the tires had dug in were still there. It’d been towed, clearly, not fit to be driven. He rested his cheek against the point of Chan’s shoulder for the rest of the drive, and had two men helping him and his clumsy use of the crutches they’d given him. They felt almost like more of a hindrance, and Chan was like a mother bird making sure his chick didn’t fall out of the nest. “I can make the bed up down here if you want to stay on the ground level,” Jeongin said. Minho considered it for a moment, but the thought of being downstairs - even if Chan stayed with him - didn’t square. The whole time he’d been wanting to crawl under the soft corduroy of Chan’s bedspread and just exist there. “There’s not that many stairs,” Minho said. And there were railings on both sides, so he’d have support going up and down. He used those instead of the crutches, and with Chan there to spot him, he made it up the stairs fine. He was supposed to stay off the ankle as much as possible? Fine, he’d do that, as soon as he got to the bed. He could feel the hesitation in Chan as they approached Minho’s room, like he wasn’t sure where Minho meant to go, and didn’t want to pressure him one way or the other. “Mind a little banged up company?” Minho asked. “I’d love some,” Chan said. Chan’s room had the ensuite bathroom, which was convenient, even if all he could manage was basically swiping at himself with a wash cloth. Enough to feel more clean. He knew Chan would’ve helped with more if he wanted, but he didn’t want it. Not that night, anyway. He knew Chan was lurking outside in case Minho needed anything, and that was…comfort. He’d given Chan a big scare. Both of them a big scare. He had to sit down to change into the clean underwear and pajamas that Chan retrieved for him. And he tried not to look at himself in the mirror too much. There was a deep bruise along one cheekbone from meeting the door window, the makings of a nice black eye. His lip was split, barely but it was. Scratches on his face and neck and arms from his tangle with the brush. He looked more like he’d been dragged through it in his panic. Chan had the bed all freshly made, blankets turned back and pillows already there so Minho could elevate his ankle. Minho held out an arm as though he wanted Chan’s assistance, but what he really wanted was something else. He kissed Chan hard, not caring about his lip in that second, and then hugged him harder. Chan hugged him back, though more gently as though he wasn’t sure what hurt and what didn’t. But it was tight enough he could feel it, feel some of the ache inside him lessen. “Thank you,” Minho said. “Thank you for being alive,” Chan said. “I was so—“ He knew. He exhaled, kissing Chan softly that time, and let Chan help him get to the bed. He was all propped up like a little king, Chan dragging the side table up, getting him drinks, snacks, making sure he had his phone, his laptop. “I’m going to go help Jeongin get things finished up,” Chan said. “Call me, though, if—“ “I will. I won’t get out of bed unless you’re here to help me. Don’t hurt yourself trying to rush.” Chan looked chagrined, but accepted that, leaning in for another kiss and then heading straight out the door. He really wasn’t gone very long, telling Minho about Meadow missing him, and all kinds of nonsense. Nice nonsense. “Jeongin’s on kitchen duty tonight. Do you want to eat here?” Chan asked. “I’d rather not eat in bed, but— Here’s fine for today,” Minho said. Chan looked him over, and seemed to have a thought, disappearing for a few minutes. When he came back with some kind of folding table, Minho laughed. Up came two kitchen chairs with it, and Minho had the seat of honor still on the bed, while Chan and Jeongin had the chairs. “This is good,” Minho said. Jeongin had clearly followed one of the recipes Minho had been compiling for him in a book on the counter. “Really?” Jeongin said, grinning. Chicken might’ve been a hair overdone, but he’d rather have to chew a little longer than be sick. It was something Jeongin would work out on his own as he got more comfortable with it. The table and chairs disappeared after as quickly as they’d appeared, and Jeongin seemed to be under some kind of orders to linger, perched on the side of the bed as Chan disappeared into the bathroom to shower. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” Jeongin said, and Minho patted his knee. “He was really scared. I was really scared. When we saw the car—“ Jeongin shivered a little bit. “I know Chan said something about rumors of sabotage, but I never thought they’d try something like that.” “Me either!” Jeongin said. “Chan definitely wouldn’t have let you go off alone if he had.” “Not like anything more could’ve been done if someone had been with me except have one more person banged up. I didn’t know if he was going to go after me down the hill.” Jeongin grimaced. “I guess the police’ll tell us when they know more? Has to kind of be hard to miss that kind of damage.” “You had good instincts to keep away from them,” Minho said. Better than his had been. Jeongin shrugged. “You do too. I mean, you like Chan. I didn’t know what to think when you got here, but it’s really nice having you around,” Jeongin said. And then immediately got embarrassed by it, shooting to his feet when Chan opened the bathroom door. He got a fist bump out of it from Minho, anyway, before Jeongin ambled down the stairs. “He’ll sleep in the house tonight in case anyone tries anything else,” Chan said. “Or in case you need anything.” “Good idea,” Minho said. And closed his eyes, when Chan winked at him. He didn’t need anything wild in the way of pain medicine, just over the counter stuff to help the inflammation and pain, so he took his next dose and propped himself right against Chan’s body after Chan settled beside him. The TV took away the need to talk, though he could feel the tension in Chan, even if it did ease the longer they rested together. Chan had what looked to be an iron grip on the remote, and Minho reached for him, stroking over the back of his hand. It got Chan to let go, to latch onto Minho’s hand instead. After a moment, Chan raised it to his mouth, kissing against Minho’s fingers. There was that, at least, hoping that made Chan feel better. But after a bit, he wiggled his other arm free and pressed the mute button on the remote, and looked to Chan instead of the TV. “What’s going on in your head?” When Chan hesitated, Minho nudged him. “I lived it. Nothing you can tell me’s going to be worse than that.” He didn’t know what kind of comfort that was, but Chan exhaled after a moment. “That I’m glad you’re as okay as you are,” Chan said. “I had a stray thought when we saw you weren’t in the car that someone had taken you, or maybe— Maybe an ambulance had gotten there before we did somehow. Just hearing your voice—“ Chan exhaled. “I was glad to hear you, too. I was telling Jeongin I didn’t know if they’d decide to come back and start searching to finish the job,” Minho said. Chan clutched him a little tighter at that thought. “I knew you’d come.” He’d known he wouldn’t be one of those people rescued after days in the forest. He could’ve crawled out if nothing else. He’d known as surely as he knew his ankle had hurt that Chan would go to look as quickly as he could. “Good,” Chan said, squeezing his hand. “I keep wondering if they targeted the car and you because it was you, and you wouldn’t sell? Or because the car belongs to the ranch and I wouldn’t?” Minho had wondered for a moment early on how they’d known, before remembering the ranch’s logo and contact information was on a bumper sticker. It wouldn’t have been hard to figure it out. “You think they’ll even tell? Would it matter? Oh sorry, I didn’t know it was him, I thought it was this handsome rancher instead.” Chan snorted. “I guess it would matter a little.” “So you could blame yourself for me getting hurt instead of you? Could’ve been Jeongin if it was any other time.” “A lot of trouble dropped on you since you got here.” “A lot that’s not trouble, too,” Minho said. “Fuck all of them. If it was me they were after, it’s not like they can scare me into selling. Double if it was you they were after instead.” “I guess we’ll know whatever we know,” Chan said. “Don’t go anywhere.” Minho sent him a flat look as Chan smiled and stroked his hair. Yeah, he was going to get up and run right out as Chan turned off the lights. “Wake me if you need anything,” Chan said. “I will,” Minho promised. “Thanks.” “Thank you for—“ Chan couldn’t quite decide. But Minho knew what he meant, and there was one more kiss before Chan settled. Apparently the gentle stroking of Minho’s hand on Chan’s arm had Chan out like a light, because Chan slept fairly quickly. Minho’s brain on the other hand was too awake for that. He hurt, and was tired, but he was also too focused on things they’d just talked about. The contract might’ve been finalized, but it hadn’t been signed yet. Until it was, nothing was set to protect Chan. *** Minho had thought it was nice that it was only his ankle hurt when he went to sleep, though he was stiff in a few places. But irritatingly the doctor at the hospital was right, and the muscles of his stomach and neck had a few thoughts about that when he first went to move after being asleep. So did his face, and his head. Chan stirred a little, too, but Minho settled to doze a little longer. It hadn’t gotten much better by the time that Chan woke up to get ready to get to work. He took more pills after gingerly getting sat up on the side of the bed, deliberately doing so while Chan was in the bathroom so he could creak and groan his way into being upright without Chan clucking in worry. His stomach felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it, in an unnatural way no workout had ever done. His neck and shoulder wasn’t much better. And he did use the crutches that Chan offered him to get into the bathroom, the twinge in his ankle more than was comfortable that morning. No, his face looked worse if anything, his eye puffy but at least not swollen shut. Chan looked relieved when Minho made his way back out, like he was worried Minho might fall into the toilet. He ate part of a protein bar to keep the medicine from grinding up his stomach, and let Chan tuck him right back into bed. “I’ll be fine for a while,” he said before Chan could ask. He even fluttered his lashes in case that helped Chan accept it. “I’ll have my phone on me if you need anything. Anything,” Chan repeated, like Minho hadn’t quite gotten it. “Okay,” Minho said, and moved a lock of hair trying to curl past Chan’s eyebrow. “Yeah, I need a haircut,” Chan said. “It’s cute,” Minho said. It got him a sigh, but then a dimple, and a kiss, and then another doze as the medicine kicked in. Jeongin peeked in on him after an hour and a half or so, bringing him some oatmeal and fruit after that, and Chan following up to eat with him. No table that morning, just a tray they’d found to sit across Minho’s lap. It left him aimless, and his worried thoughts of the previous night haunted him, reaching for his phone and making several calls, including to his lawyer, and his family to let them know what had happened. He texted his friends a brief account, let them know he’d talk to them when he felt better but that he was doing as well as could be expected. All that he needed then was to talk to Chan, and that happened at lunch, Minho getting served a very nice bowl of soup and a very thin sandwich to accommodate his hurt lip. There was a smear of flour on Chan’s sleeve, and he had to smile internally so as not to let Chan know he’d caught on. Were they making bread? It was cute. “I called my doctor. They got me in next Friday,” Minho said as he ate, and Chan nodded. “That’s good. It’s back where you live, though, right?” “Yeah. So, here’s hoping I won’t need the crutches by then. If I take it easy, hopefully…?” Even if he had to walk at half speed, he figured he could make it. “I’d take you all the way there if I could,” Chan said. “It’s just the worst—“ Chan stopped trying to apologize when Minho pinched his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll see how it is between now and then. But, besides that, what do you think about signing the land contract as soon as we can?” Minho asked. Chan frowned at him over his sandwich. “What do you mean?” “I mean… we can print out the contract. Both lawyers agree it’s in its final form, yeah? I called around and there’s a mobile notary who could come.” “That’s really sudden.” “Yeah, well. We just got proof that life and death is sudden. I know a bogeyman isn’t going to jump out and stab me before my ankle heals, but I want this… I don’t know. I’d feel better if it was done.” “I mean, yeah. Obviously, I’d be thrilled any time. I wasn’t even going to worry about it until you felt better, though.” Chan frowned again. “If this is what you feel like you need to do, though, then… Just tell me when.” “It’s not because I’m planning to cut and run,” Minho said. In case Chan got the idea that he was hitting the escape button. Sign the contract, escape to the city to see the doctor, never return. He hadn’t forgotten that quiet conversation on the porch. And Chan might have thought he had more reason to, after the accident. “Just. So you know.” Chan nodded at him. “I’m glad you’re not.” “We’ll take a celebratory picture maybe when I don’t look like I took a knockout punch in the ring.” “You’re still gorgeous,” Chan said, touching his chin. “But yeah, a celebratory picture after sounds good.” He called the notary as soon as they were done eating, with Chan watching him, and they set a time, three days from then. One more thing in progress. Chan kissed him after, telling him to have a good rest, and went back out to work, and Minho grumpily rolled over to flop at Chan’s side of the bed, hating everything about being cooped up but not wanting to push himself more than he was already. He appreciated Chan’s patience, but more appreciated him not nagging that Minho was supposed to be taking it easy, giving his brain time to heal. His head didn’t seem to be what bothered him, though he knew that could be deceptive. He flexed his ankle experimentally and sighed in frustration. When the memory of the accident tried to intrude, he tried to divert it, thinking instead of after. Chan’s face, wild with worry and relief, hugging him. Chan just sweeping Minho up into his arms to carry him to the safety of the truck. Chan holding his hand in the emergency room. Chan cuddling him after they were home. He’d rest a couple more days like had been recommended, he promised himself. If he pushed himself too hard, too fast, it might make healing take longer. And for both of them, that was the last thing he wanted. *** The scent of baking bread rose even to Chan’s room, so when Chan peeked in on him later, he didn’t think he had to be coy when he said, “Something smells good.” Chan grinned, immediately. “Doesn’t it? I was so relieved. I checked everything three times putting it together. Jeongin helped, too. It’s just cooling right now.” “No need for me to hurry to rush out of bed, then, huh?” Minho asked. “Well, and to give you something nice, like you’ve been giving us,” Chan said, and took Minho’s offered hand, squeezing it. “Want a piece when I go back down?” “Of course, I want to try it,” Minho said. “Good,” Chan said, obviously pleased. And he stared a beat too long, like he expected to read some kind of health meter hanging over Minho’s head. “Everything look like it’s where you left it?” Minho asked, touching his head. “It does,” Chan said, and shuffled himself into an awkward sitting position beside Minho. “I actually had a question. I wanted to…ask you something.” “Go ahead.” “Are we— I mean, do you consider us to be… dating?” Minho almost turned his head to look beside Chan at some imaginary figure standing by him, as though that would’ve helped him somehow. Unconventionally? But yeah, they were. “Yes…?” he said, the answer leading Chan to finish whatever thought he was going through. “I just realized today I didn’t know. Or more that we hadn’t talked about it? I mean, I knew what we’d been doing, but not really what we were wanting to call it. I was talking to a friend about how you’d gotten hurt, and was like… Do I call you the guy I’m dating? My boyfriend? Friend? Business partner?” “E. All of the above?” Minho mused. “Right,” Chan said, laughing softly. “I just think about it like normally you’d ask someone out, right, go on a few dates, get to know each other, ask if they want to be exclusive?” “So we got to the going steady and missed a few steps,” Minho said. “Named steps, anyway. Please imagine the look on Jeongin’s face when he looked at me today and asked, ‘You don’t know if you’re dating?!’” Minho burst out laughing at Chan’s dead-on impression of Jeongin’s exasperation as Chan giggled against Minho’s hand. “So when was our first date, then?” Chan was quiet a moment as he thought, his fingers tapping away on Minho’s skin. “When you asked me to watch a movie with you?” “What about when you asked me to start feeding Meadow?” “That…was…” Chan’s words stumbled to a stop. “We barely knew each other! We hadn’t even kissed yet.” “Did you not want to date me before we kissed?” “Well—“ “What about when we went riding? Or when you moved cow manure aside for me? Or complimented my boots?” He had no idea how long it was going to take for Chan to realize Minho was yanking his chain, but the helpless laugh when he did and the touch to Minho’s shoulder told him everything. “Well. Next time I’ll know what to say,” Chan said. “Tell me.” “I have to go. I have to get back to Minho, my boyfriend and business partner,” Chan said, in his very dramatic reenactment of an imaginary phone call. “Who I’m very glad is well enough to be right here with me so I can know he’s okay, and I can see his face when I wake up.” “Such as it is right now.” Chan shook his head, and then, thinking, shook his head again, and hugged Minho’s hand a little closer to himself. “You can’t talk like that about my boyfriend,” he said, snottily. Minho huffed at him, but Chan huffed right back, laughing as Minho rolled his eyes and tried not to grin so wide that it tugged at his lip. But the bread was very good. He was very proud and took even greater pride in embarrassing Chan about it to the point where Chan couldn’t even look at him. With some half smile, half grimace on his face like he was a dog that had done something bad and was trying to ignore it had happened. He resigned to allowing Chan to kiss all over his un-bruised cheek as compensation. But when the eating was done, the case of the shower became apparent when Minho realized for one, he’d only washed up since he’d been back, and two, Chan had Concerns. Not enough concern to suggest something wild like they shower together - a thought he would not have considered wild, though the shower was also not something he could easily navigate using crutches. Not that he meant to. If he stood still and was quick, he could do everything he needed to. The bathroom Minho had used on his arrival had a shower and tub combination, not ideal, but in Chan’s bathroom, the shower was detached. A flat, even surface to walk in and out of, no stepping up or over, or having to twist. It had been added a bit as an afterthought, clearly, tucked back in one corner and the sliding door facing a wall. So there was certainly privacy. Chan was on top of every detail, making sure everything was where it should be. “There’s soap and shampoo and stuff in there. I can get yours if you want it? Oh, did you want a chair in there, or…?” “No, whatever’s in there is fine. It’ll only be a few minutes,” Minho said. He was pretty sure he could handle it. Chan hung a robe on a peg right outside of the shower door. “There. That way you don’t have to worry about drying off or getting dressed or— Yeah.” “Thank you,” Minho said, and glanced over at Chan. “It’s okay, you know? You’re acting like you haven’t seen me naked.” “I mean, not all of you,” Chan said, swallowing in the most delightful way. “I do want to help you. I don’t…want to take advantage of that. I definitely don’t want to risk you hurting yourself more.” He sounded so earnest. Part of Minho wanted to tease him more. Part of him wanted to pat Chan on the head. He was trying to be respectful. And probably a bit smart about it, too. Two people in a shower when one of them only had one good ankle was probably a bad idea anyway. “I’ll sit over here, if that’s okay? That way if you need anything I can grab it for you,” Chan said. It was that genuine worry again, but Minho couldn’t help the tease. “You’re going to be listening through the door with a glass otherwise, so yeah, that’s fine. You don’t have x-ray vision do you?” “What?” The sudden question startled Chan for a second, but he immediately sputtered. “No. Though, I wish. It’d come in handy when something’s making noise on the truck.” Or if someone was showering? He didn’t mean it just for Chan’s peace of mind to stay close, though. It was a comfort to him, too, knowing Chan was right there in case he needed anything. But he wasn’t intending to stay in the shower for an hour, either. The crutches got left on the outside wall, and Minho took careful steps into the shower stall where at least it was still dry. Him showering before Chan had been a good idea. And the shower did have a grab bar that he utilized to steady himself as he got his pajamas and underwear off. The robe might’ve been a good idea to start off with, too, but they were both amateurs and only realized it belatedly. Again, he was cranky at his body. The ankle was bad enough without his stomach hurting as he bent over, and his neck being stiff when he wanted to turn his head. All his clothes ended up in a nice little heap outside of the shower door, and he slid it closed, bracing himself to figure out the intricacies of the hot/cold knobs. He only froze himself for a second before getting it slowly up to a normal operating temperature. Chan had been right, there was the usual suspects of shampoo, soap, body wash. A quick sniff of a few of them told him that some of them definitely were what he’d smelled on Chan before. His hair had no curl in it to speak of, but he wasn’t going to be choosy. “Do you sing in the shower?” Minho asked over the spray, after he’d gotten his hair rinsed out. “Never!” Chan said, but the laugh that followed after it seemed to indicate that wasn’t quite true. “I used to have a bluetooth speaker in there, but I knocked it off and it broke, so.” Poor speaker, deprived of shower time with Chan. Chan, washing his hair. Chan, getting all soapy and wet. And Minho’s thoughts stopped there because he didn’t have the time, the energy, or the physical soundness to see them through to the end. Plus, he had company, and the thought of Chan just…listening in had him chuckling to himself. But he was as clean as he was getting, and what he couldn’t wash for fear of his own safety had at least been touched by soap and water as it sluiced off of him. He felt clean again, was the important part, as he turned off the water and got a rush of cool air as he slid open the shower door. The robe was exactly as Chan had left it, and the mat in front of the shower was soft and grippy as Minho braced himself with the door and stepped out. He wrapped himself in the robe, belting it, and scrubbed for a second at his hair with the towel before he turned, gingerly. “Ready,” Minho said. It took only a few seconds for Chan to appear, and for Chan to smile at him like he was soft for Minho being wrapped in his robe. Sappy, that was what that was. “Let’s get you back to bed, then,” he said. There wasn’t much to it. The floor was just as dry and even as it’d been when he’d made it into the bathroom, and Chan stood by in case he ended up in a heap of body and sticks. But on the bed was a clean change of clothes thoughtfully brought by Chan, pajamas given he wasn’t going to be going anywhere at night. He settled on the bed, safe and sound, as Chan hovered. “Did you want me to get your ice pack now?” Chan asked. Since he’d been up and around, he nodded, and Chan disappeared for a couple of minutes before bringing it and a clean towel. Minho accepted both of them. “Go ahead and get yours now. I can manage from here,” Minho said. He wondered if it looked like he was winking with his eyelid still a little swollen. “I’ll be right back, then,” Chan told him, and had to detour right back to get his own clothes when he’d almost gone into the bathroom without them. Minho only laughed at him a little. At least he was deemed capable enough to dress himself. The thought of going over to hang up the robe, though, after he’d gotten his pajama pants on, was too much. He draped it instead over his crutches against the bedside table. Chan, he knew, would hang it up for him, or else they’d die of shock in the middle of the night when the crutches clattered down. He took his pain medication before he forgot, and the thought of lying back on the bed, elevating his ankle like he felt like he’d been doing for two weeks instead of a whole day had him groaning, ignoring the clean shirt and just rolling onto the bed in abject protest. As soon as he got the ice pack strapped where he wanted it, he communed with the sheets as he listened to the faint sounds of Chan showering. One day— One day he was going to get a firsthand shower concert. He was going to suds up all that hair himself and kiss Chan while doing it. Chan wouldn’t be all shy and worried about taking advantage, he’d have been granted all the advantages and he’d know it. He still hadn’t convinced himself to move when the bathroom door opened. If Chan wondered why Minho was face down on the bed, shirtless and sprawled and protesting life, he didn’t ask it. After a minute, the bed dipped beside him, Chan sitting on the edge of the bed nearest him. “You okay? Does your back hurt?” Chan asked, his hand barely skimming over Minho’s skin. “Not as much as everything else,” Minho said grumpily. He couldn’t even lay his face down the way he wanted to because of his bruises. “I don’t know what I can do about everything else, but if you want I can rub your back a while. Massage it a little? Maybe help you relax?” Just the gentle strokes, as gentle as when he’d carefully pet Shadow’s neck, felt nice. “If you want to,” Minho said. “Sure.” And Chan arranged himself a little more so that the next time he touched Minho’s back it was with both hands. Part of it was just stroking, sweeping along his skin with a gentle press, but not enough to be ticklish. Almost like he was just trying to get blood to flow through Minho’s skin, and it absolutely worked. After a couple of minutes of that, Chan began to use his thumbs as well, starting at Minho’s lower back and working up his spine, spreading out over his shoulder blades. There weren’t really any knots, so there wasn’t all that much pain, but just the act of Chan’s thumbs kneading him like he was a big lump of dough was sending sparks of relief through him. But ah, when Chan reached up near his shoulders, those muscles were sore, and the sound he made was involuntary. “Hey, sorry,” Chan immediately, hands stilling but not retreating. “That sounded like it hurt.” “Kind of? But also good? Maybe try again?” “Okay,” Chan said. “I’ll be more gentle this time.” As he said, he was more gentle, not ineffectual but letting the pain sit beneath the surface instead of bubbling to the top, until it started fleeing a little. Chan didn’t linger there too long, moving gently outward and just turning him slowly into putty. “How is that?” Chan asked softly. “Good for now, I think,” Minho said. And sighed as Chan stood, pulling the sheet up over him. “Thanks.” “Of course,” Chan said. Chan was dutiful, helping Minho get the ice pack free, setting it aside to be taken back downstairs. The light went off not long after, and the mattress gave a little as Chan slid into bed beside him. “Is your ankle going to be okay like that?” Chan asked, as though hesitant to dictate how Minho was going to rest. No. It was already beginning to throb a little with the weird angle he’d set it at. Chan turned the bedside light on and helped him, lifting the covers so he could turn, and at least getting to rest on his side with his ankle straight and elevated again. Chan could clearly hear the frustration in his exhale, because he was right there, tangling his fingers with Minho’s. “I hope it feels better soon,” Chan said. Not placating him, not apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault, just comforting him. And though maybe Chan’s concern and watching over him crossed the line into too much, just stopping shy of Minho backing him off, that didn’t. No. He got that Chan just wanted him to be okay. Guilt might have been part of it, but just a general care for Minho himself was the root. “Thanks for your help. With everything,” he said, squeezing Chan’s fingers. “I do feel better.” He was clean, medicated, and Chan had helped relax him. “I’m happy to, really. And maybe something to look forward to, when you’re better I’ll take you out for a real date somewhere. We’ll get milkshakes, or dinner, or something.” Or something. Somehow Minho couldn’t help but think Chan was still thinking of the expectations of others. Or maybe, the expectations of someone like Dukhyun. He crooked a finger, getting Chan closer, and then almost close enough to bite as Chan looked at him curiously. “They’ve been real dates.” He couldn’t really explain the expression that crossed Chan’s face. Fond didn’t quite cover it but something about it made vital organs knock around inside of his ribs in response. “Dates off the ranch, then,” Chan said. Minho inclined his head. He would accept that offer. When the light was off again and Chan turned to him, he touched Minho’s jaw and kissed him. And then when Minho chased him down the half inch he’d moved, kissed him another time. That was when he felt like things would improve, spending that quiet minute experiencing every angle of Chan’s mouth against his, kisses so feather light that any other time they might’ve been a tease. Even his split lip complied, not beginning to sting until Chan let out the most contented sigh. For a while, he listened to Chan sleep, stroking the backs of his fingers where they rested on Minho’s arm. Eventually, some of his own aches settling, he followed. *** Another day or two had been about right, it turned out. The swelling had slowly gone down, and he made his case to Chan that he wanted to go downstairs for lunch. With the mobile notary set to come the next day, it gave Minho a reason to argue to escape the confines of the upstairs and brave the staircase so that he knew it could be done. Not alone, obviously, as he had Chan attached to him by a string. He opted to use the rails instead of the crutches because his ankle was well supported and the twinges were less. A little exercise on it was good, he’d been told, after he got past the first couple of days. He certainly got that walking gingerly around the bathroom. He’d traded the bed for the couch after eating lunch at the table, but it was still four different walls to stare at. And since the couch could recline, with his leg propped up on a cushion, he napped there and remembered snuggling with Chan as they watched a movie. Seemed like five minutes ago, and yet so much had changed. He hadn’t felt up to talking to anyone almost when he’d been upstairs, but in the larger area downstairs, his brain felt more free. So, he called Jisung. They’d texted, but he knew the difference between that and hearing someone’s voice. He was able to give a longer account of what had happened, how he was doing. “Wait, back up,” Jisung said. “He carried you to the truck? Like, slung you over his shoulder like a sack of rice?” Minho sputtered. “No. With his arms.” “Just picked you up and— Shit. And, like, who knew you were going to inherit the place and the cattle mafia were going to come after you?” Jisung mused. The cattle mafia. Minho imagined Meadow in a pair of sunglasses and laughed right to the point where the muscles in his stomach protested. “I mean, they’ll find whoever it was and arrest them. They can’t… I don’t know. I guess they would have to see if it was an order? Someone acting alone? I don’t know.” “And we thought kids on scooters on the sidewalks were dangerous,” Jisung said. “Seriously. I’m sticking to the house for now anyway. Even if my ankle wasn’t fucked up, I wouldn’t be— Chan’s pretty wary, for good reason. He doesn’t want anyone to leave the property on their own until we know more about what happened.” “Sounds smart. I still can’t believe— A cattle rancher.” “And he’s even better than the pictures,” Minho said. “Don’t be a jerk. Some of us are single,” Jisung muttered. It was somehow more boring and more lonely being in the house, even though many of his days before the accident had gone just like that. Except, he could’ve gone out when he’d wanted, cooked when he wanted, or worked out. Taken a walk, taken a lap around the barn, any of it. Instead he was a lump surrounded by electronics to keep him company when he could stand to look at them. His head had definitely joined the party in the changing light. Chan didn’t hover, at least. No one came in through the afternoon, like he was trusted to text one of them to tell them if something was needed. In fact, it was Chan who texted him, sending him a link to the local newspaper and a report of an arrest made for vehicular assault. Vehicular assault. It almost seemed not enough, and yet it was so much infinitely better than vehicular homicide. There wasn’t any picture, just a few lines that he’d been detained. Some progress, anyway. The angry emojis that Chan sent with it conveyed his feelings on the matter. They’d said they would find whoever did it, and they had. It was only the beginning, he knew that, but if anyone doubted it, they had the smashed up car for evidence. When he started feeling sorry for himself again, he argued he was fine. No, he had plenty of snacks, and the kitchen wasn’t far. He could be trusted to move around with his crutches and use the bathroom on his own. Though, the kitchen did give him pause as he realized he couldn’t carry something and use crutches at the same time. He’d had to fish a grocery bag out of the bag of bags and was glad for it. Otherwise he’d have had to make a sling out of kitchen towels or something. He’d make something the next day, he was determined. Scrambled eggs, or something easy. He sighed and hiked himself back to the couch. By the time Chan came in the door, he was hungry for some kind of human contact. Any kind of human contact. “Welcome home,” Minho said sweetly over the back of the couch, and was immediately rewarded by the alarm on Chan’s face as he clearly pondered why Minho had said it like that. He had to have some kind of fun if he was going to be cooped up for days. Too many. “How was your day?” Chan asked, almost leaning on the back of the couch and thinking better of it as his sleeves were filthy. “Long,” Minho said. “I’ll go wash up and try and make it better, then,” Chan said, clearly reading between the lines on that one. “Only if you promise,” Minho said. The sound of Chan’s laugh as he went up the stairs was infinitely preferable to the silence. He made a face at his ankle, but that didn’t help it feel any better. As promised, when Chan thumped back down the stairs, he was freshly showered with clean clothes, and also as promised wrapped himself around Minho’s torso like a snake. He just nuzzled right in under Minho’s chin, hair still a bit faintly damp, and sighed like he’d missed Minho terribly, like he’d been the one cooped up instead. And, he suspected as Chan had hoped, it made Minho grin as he fondled Chan’s hair. “There, there,” he said. Chan wiggled a little, tilting his head back like a dramatic little soul, grinning cutely. “Hi.” “Hi,” Minho said, and poked his lips out in response to Chan doing the same thing, more or less bopping their mouths together. “Jeongin’s going to cook tonight so we can just stay here like this,” Chan said. “Or you could help him and we could eat faster,” Minho said. Another dramatic sigh and Chan rested his head back on Minho’s chest for a moment. “I could go ask to see if he needs me to do anything,” Chan said. “You could,” Minho agreed, and Chan wiggled back upright, sitting up with his hair twice as wild as when he’d sat down. “How are you feeling?” Chan asked. “Better,” Minho said, and it was the truth. And, the right answer, as it garnered him a real kiss that time, a bright smile, and a hand touch. It felt more right sitting there, listening to Chan and Jeongin laugh in the kitchen. Chan brought him a few sneaky bites of vegetables as he got them sliced, just keeping him included. He could’ve crutched his way over to the table to watch them cook, but… No, he didn’t want to sit up too long, not until his leg was better. He could’ve maybe ate on the couch, too, but there was babying his head and his ankle, and there was being lazy. If he was too lazy, then he could see Chan’s worry going straight to the sky. Chan would be carrying him around on his back like a backpack. “It tasted better when you made it,” Jeongin pondered, staring at his plate. “How brown did you get the chicken?” Minho asked, since that was the only thing he could think of. It wasn’t dry and overcooked that time. There was enough salt. “A little,” Jeongin said. “So, I’ll make sure to get it a little more next time.” They’d make a cook out of him yet. He listened, as they shared their thoughts over the news of the arrest. Had it just been one guy working alone? He wasn’t sure if they’d ever really know that. “I have a friend who has a relative who works for the office there,” Chan said. “I’ll just rest easier once we know more. And the car will have to get replaced. We could all go and look one day. You two’ll probably drive it more than I will.” Minho and Jeongin shared a look at that, while Chan pouted. The showering process went much smoother that time, Minho learning to start with the robe, and Chan at one point serenading him while brushing his teeth and sounding partially like he was gargling. And that was good, he didn’t feel like he just had to x-ray the shower stall in case Minho collapsed. There wasn’t any massage that night, but Chan did cuddle him as they watched TV while Minho iced his ankle. Or, as Chan watched TV. Minho watched for a bit before his head started feeling funny, and instead he rested his head against Chan and was content with the random kisses that Chan pressed against his hair and the absent designs that Chan traced against the back of his hand . And when the TV was off, and everything else settled and dark, and Chan turned to him, wrapped carefully around him, it was different than earlier on the couch, not trying to be cute and helpful, or even soothing. Just being with him, his nose against Minho’s cheekbone, a hand on Minho’s opposite shoulder. “Was good having you downstairs today,” Chan said, and that time his sigh was like he’d sat in the most luxurious bath. “Felt more normal.” “Mm,” Minho agreed, slowly stroking along Chan’s arm. “One day at a time, I guess.” Chan nodded. “That’s right,” he said, but his words had the distinct sound of a man close to yawning. He wondered when normal had become Minho downstairs, or even Minho in Chan’s bed. More settled, more removed from the accident, the hospital, more settled into something that felt like they’d done it a couple dozen times. A hundred times. The circumstances had done it. The fear, and the relief, and the beginnings of closeness before that. Making them leap a step or three to take a deep drink of the intimacy they’d only had tastes of before. Something that was naturally on its way, but arrived quicker. “Good night,” Minho murmured, and felt Chan hum. “I love you.” It was barely said on an exhale, but the words were so clear, so distinct. He wasn’t even entirely sure Chan knew he’d said it, like a reflexive “you too!” after being thanked. That Chan took a distinctly asleep inhale some seconds after seemed to confirm it. He’d have dismissed it out of hand, except— Except, it was Chan. It wasn’t some dramatic confession of being in love but was just a simple affirmation of feelings. If someone had asked, oh, does Chan love you? He’d have said Chan certainly cared about him. Wanted to kiss him, and wanted all the rest of him, too. Whether Chan loved him or not was almost immaterial, because Chan made him feel loved. He wondered if that had ever caused Chan trouble in school, or anywhere else, if his nature had led any number of people along by absolute accident to feel that when Chan looked at them that they were the most loved humans on the face of the planet. If they’d fallen in love thinking Chan returned it? Dozens of hearts left scattered behind him. It almost made him laugh. But Chan wasn’t leading him on. They were in a relationship, legitimately. For Chan to even vaguely mumble it at him meant there was some truth to it, and that meant he was overthinking. There were no strings of broken hearts. Maybe wistful ones. And if Chan had maybe not meant to say it out loud yet, or at all, then it would be their secret. Or his secret, at least. The feelings were complicated, in a way, but it didn’t feel bad. So if anything, there was that. It was something else that had been naturally on its way, there whether either of them were ready or not. *** For the second day in a row, Chan had helped him down the stairs to have the whole of the bottom floor as his personal playground. And he glowered at the crutches, mocking him from beside the stool. It felt nice to be in the light of the kitchen and not have it make his head want to leave his body, so he sat there peeling himself an orange while Jeongin got lunch ready. More soup, more sandwiches. And it sounded kind of good as he sat there. Jeongin stared into the pot of soup as though willing it to boil, and Minho thoughtfully handed him an orange segment as he ate. “How’s Chan doing?” Minho asked. Jeongin looked up at him, a little surprised. “He’s okay? Why?” “Just thought I’d ask and make sure. I’m probably taking up a lot of his brain power limping around,” Minho said. “Chan likes taking care of things, though. I mean, Chan never wants any of the cows to be sick or hurt, but he’s so happy when they get better,” Jeongin laughed. He was one of the herd, then. That was great. “You guys used to hang out more before I got here,” Minho said, still delicately picking his orange apart. “Yeah? A little. But I mean, I see him all day and we’ve still hung out? And when I have a really big test coming up I basically have to ghost him, and he’s just rattling around in his big house by himself like a sad puppy. So, you being around won’t make me feel so bad when that happens.” “Glad to be of use,” Minho said. “He’s a lot happier with you here. I mean, seriously, sometimes he just starts grinning stupidly to himself and I can tell he’s thinking about you.” Minho snorted, imagining that, and Jeongin pointed at him. “Yeah, exactly like that.” Jeongin was clowning him and he knew it, and they rolled their eyes at each other. “I’m not wishing you’d disappear or anything. Maybe stop kissing so much around me,” Jeongin suggested. “Take it up with him,” Minho said, hearing the door open as Chan came in from outside. “He’s the instigator.” What? It didn’t seem like Jeongin believed him. But there was innocent little Minho just living his life and tilting his face up as Chan came up to him and gave him a kiss. He poked a piece of orange into Chan’s mouth and let him go wash up to eat. “See?” Minho said, satisfied. “Not my fault.” The look Jeongin sent him was both incredibly disrespectful and gratifying. Minho was still laughing to himself about it when he - for Chan’s benefit mostly - used his crutches to get the few feet over to the table. Chan did help with the chair, though, so there was that. Of course, as soon as he started eating, his phone dinged with an incoming text. But it was on the couch, and he wasn’t, so Chan got up to go look. “What is it?” Minho asked, not caring if Chan looked or not. “It’s the notary. Says they should be here in about an hour,” Chan said, and set Minho’s phone down beside him. He texted back an affirmative, and got back to his food. “Excited?” Jeongin asked Chan. “I mean, yeah. But it still feels too theoretical,” Chan said, shaking his head. “And even when it’s signed, it’ll be a piece of paper.” That was what Chan said, anyway, and Minho totally understood. The notary was prompt pulling into the driveway, and Chan was very genial, as always. But as they signed, dated, initialed, he could hear something changing in Chan’s voice. Minho saw the notary out, partway anyway, thanking her for coming, and when he went back to sit at the table, Chan was still there, staring at the two copies of the contract sitting on the table. One for each of them. He didn’t think Chan was crying, but there was definitely some emotion there that was overwhelming to him. Minho was alarmed to see Chan’s eyes were wetter than usual, but Chan shook his head, leaning forward to rest his head against Minho’s shoulder. “Hey? What’s that?” Minho prodded. “Thank you. I’m so…grateful? I felt so guilty, and so worried that I might’ve ended something my family had started instead of trying to be patient and wait things out. And then you came, and—“ He wasn’t sure if touching Chan was going to make him break down, or help, so the hand he stroked down the back of Chan’s head was wary. “I didn’t know if I could trust you at first,” Chan said. “And then you were wonderful.” It made Minho’s eyes close, exhaling. “Yeah, well, you’re kind of wonderful, too. Hey, you’re not supposed to get choked up about that, it’s a fact—“ It had Chan lolling against him in laughter instead of sucking in a fraught breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did everything you could. Now you can keep doing it,” Minho said, and that was all the words he had about it, really. There wasn’t anything else Chan could or couldn’t have done. It was all settled. “I’ll go work the rest of this off, then,” Chan said, making to stand so he didn’t marinate in it. He made it halfway, leaning in and kissing Minho first. “You staying down here for now?” “Until after dinner, yeah,” Minho said. “Okay,” Chan said. He squeezed Minho’s shoulder one more time before he went out. He’d looked steadier, which was good, and he could go out then and experience the ranch that, as of the contract’s signing, was his alone again as long as he stuck to it. It was a business deal, not a gift, but he knew without even thinking twice about it that to Chan it very much was a gift. To Minho, it was something like relief, something he could put out of his head. The contracts he put into the office for safekeeping, both of them. And then dealt with the realization that there wasn’t any “next step” to do. He’d waited for that moment, and then there it had passed. He was still tied to the business, but not the land. He was still tied to Chan. *** Minho thought he was ready for the big leap as he got his clothes out of Chan’s dresser and his robe ready as well. His robe, Chan’s robe that he’d commandeered, whatever. Chan was only half paying him attention, lounged on the bed in a tank top and shorts and reading on his phone. “I’m going in alone tonight,” Minho said. “Braving the long bathroom savannah.” “Okay,” Chan agreed. Minho eyed him but found no reverse psychology in his expression or otherwise. Chan had been less and less involved over consecutive nights, so it did make sense he’d be fine with Minho saying he was ready and doing so. Mostly Chan the last night had just been logistical support. And it was fine. He was ready, so he got about his business. When he emerged, he was cleaner, more damp, and pleased. He’d been able to move around the bathroom with a cautious ease, get in and out of the shower without problem. His neck wasn’t sore any longer, though his stomach still lingered a little. His head was better, too. It was just his stomach, his ankle, and the fading bruises, really. Chan sat up as Minho sat down on the bed, still drying his hair with a towel. Chan had his serious face on, and Minho stopped with the drying as Chan swallowed. “I didn’t realize— I mean, I knew today and signing the contract was going to make me feel something, but I didn’t realize how much? Sorry if that made you feel weird? I got to thinking that it could’ve hurt. It’s not that I didn’t believe you’d do it?” Minho’s blinking got more and more rapid the longer Chan spoke. He’d been showering, and Chan had been out there overthinking. “No,” Minho said. “I understood? I didn’t think anything like that. I was happy for you being happy.” Chan nodded, serious melting into a smile. “Okay. Good. I was - am - happy. And grateful. And happy it was you.” Minho resumed drying his hair in lieu of shaking his head at Chan listing things off. “Looking for something?” Minho asked, feeling Chan’s eyes on him after he’d gotten settled in bed just as much as he felt the fingertip tracing his cheek. “Or you want to see the less pretty side?” He turned his head so Chan could see the fading bruises. “Just temporarily decorated,” Chan said, and softly kissed his bruised cheekbone, and then his mouth as well. Chan loved him. In a weird way, even if Chan hadn’t repeated it, he was glad he’d heard it before the contract had been done. Maybe that Minho was compliant with moving towards it had been a reason Chan had been willing to fall for him to start with, but he hardly wanted that to be all of it. Not just rewards and relief and dollar signs. He was able to watch TV that night with his eyes open, and Chan’s head on his lap. The first moment he felt Chan start to fall out of consciousness, he tickled the remote out of Chan’s hand. Chan kissed him after that, after sitting up and getting their faces close for a moment. Then there was the rustling, and the moving, and the lights going out to the more intimate darkness. “Good night,” Chan said, so low and soft beside him. And sure, Minho almost whacked Chan in the nose at first, but he traced the backs of his fingers down Chan’s cheek, and got them kissed for his effort. *** Chan did his best to make Minho’s recovery as normal as possible. Minho had contemplated going to the barn with his crutches exactly once, and then considered how sore they made him just moving around the house and thought better of it. Chan had also almost offered to drive Minho the very far distance across the yard in the…car. That no longer existed, as Chan had realized it as soon as it left his mouth. And Minho wasn’t interested in being hefted into the truck, or worse, ferried over in the four wheeler trailer. So no, he watched from afar. “Could you help me out to sit on the swing for a while?” Minho asked Chan as Chan was putting away food from lunch. “Sure!” Chan said. Delighted to help, maybe, or that Minho felt up to trying at all. He didn’t need much help in the way of getting out there, as the crutches did that part. But Chan held the swing itself for him as he backed into it so he didn’t end up on his butt on the porch instead. While the swing was well in the overhang over the roof, he was still wary and had a pair of dark sunglasses on, taking a drink, and his phone. Chan brought out an extra cushion for behind his back and helped Minho get his legs stretched out along the swing for comfort. Everything anyone needed for a nice relaxing time in the shade. “Thank you, sir,” Minho said, like Chan was his cabin boy, and Chan half gave him a high five, half hand clutch. “Any time,” Chan said, grinning at him and leaving him to his business. There was something to that grin that Minho hadn’t been quite sure about. Chan was a terrible liar, and apparently also terrible at secrets. Minho had an inkling of what Chan could have been thinking that was proven too when Chan appeared back out of the barn with Meadow being led beside him. He clapped, happy to see her. She’d grown? Again? Like babies seemed to do, apparently. “Meadow!” Minho called when they got close to the porch, and her head lifted a little, mooing, looking for him. He put the sunglasses on top of his head so he didn’t look like a giant bug or something to her. She was skeptical of the stairs, but with Chan’s encouragement, she scrabbled up them, and then with Chan, over to Minho. Since his leg was protected on the swing she was able to walk right up to him, letting Minho hug her neck for a few seconds before wanting to wiggle free. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, scratching her face in the way he knew she liked. “You’re getting to be a big baby.” “She’s really doing well,” Chan agreed, petting her also. “I had to pull her away from chasing her friends along the fence line.” “Big girl play dates and everything,” Minho admired. “Next it’ll be dances and college exams.” He had no food for her, so her interest waned after a little while, wanting to sniff along the railings, or look for food on the floor. “I thought it’d be nice to see her for a minute,” Chan said, standing back straight from where he’d been leaning against a post, watching them. Meadow nosed back against Minho’s hand, and he smiled at her. “It was. Bye, baby. Be good,” Minho said, stroking her face one more time before Chan turned with her to take her back to the barn. She decided to leave a nice splat of poop as a parting gift on one of the stairs, and Minho cackled as Chan stared at it. “I’ll clean it up,” Chan said, sighing and patting Meadow on the back. “Come on, let’s get back before we leave a whole trail behind us.” Nothing a quick scrape of a shovel and a spray with the hose couldn’t cure, and Chan did that when he’d gotten back before rejoining Minho on the porch. “There, daily dose of baby cow,” Chan said. Minho pulled his legs up so Chan had a space to sit, but instead of letting Minho leave them there, he patted his lap, letting Minho know he could stretch back out again. And that did feel better, letting himself relax again as Chan’s hand rested on one of his shins. “Thanks for bringing her up. Even with her parting gift.” Chan chuckled. “That’s part of the package. Something’s always going in or out. As long as they’re healthy, I don’t mind.” He wasn’t even sure Chan was aware he was stroking Minho’s leg, but Minho also wasn’t going to complain about it. “You don’t have anything more important to do?” Minho asked. “Not more than this right now,” Chan said. “You have any big plans today?” “A nap later, maybe. I didn’t have any pain moving around the bathroom this morning,” Minho said. “That’s good!” He’d ignore the twinge he’d had on the stairs. He’d taken it easy after that, hadn’t he? Used his crutches and everything. And there he was with a handsome man and using his thighs as therapy. When he heard tires on the driveway, he didn’t look until Chan tensed and leaned forward. It was the look on Chan’s face that had his head turning though, spotting the familiar sports car. “Is he seriously showing his face here again now?” Chan asked. Though his voice wasn’t calm, Chan lifted Minho’s legs off of his lap as the car came to a stop, setting them gently back on the swing before Chan went toward the stairs. His guard dog, Minho thought, laughing to himself. Truly, as Chan leaned up against the post as though daring Dukhyun to try and get by him. “Good afternoon. I just wanted to stop by and check on how Minho is doing.” “Not great,” Chan said. Flatly. No other offering. No moving aside. No thanks to you said, but Minho could sure hear it. “I’d like to ask him that myself, if you don’t mind.” Minho was staying out of it, letting Chan fight his own battles. After a second, Chan relented as though trusting on the other hand that Minho could fight his own too, but he stepped back only as far as the end of the porch swing, as though daring Dukhyun to go by him to get any closer to Minho than the railing in front of the swing. Minho took off his sunglasses again, letting his starburst of bruises be clearly visible to join the clear view of the crutches against the wall. And he was gratified when Dukhyun winced. “How are you?” Dukhyun asked Minho. “I’ve been better,” Minho said. It seemed odd that he’d have stopped to talk. He didn’t know how much liability the company themselves carried over the accident, much less anything else. “Should you even be here?” “It’s not what my lawyers would have advised, but I wanted to speak to you directly,” Dukhyun said. “I know what you had to be thinking, but there weren’t any instructions for this to happen. We wanted this place, yeah, but we can wait. No one was supposed to ever be hurt.” Minho just barely kept himself from laughing as Chan rolled his eyes out of Dukhyun’s sight. They could wait? Sure. Just wear them down, wait for them to give up. “Anyway, I just wanted to send our wishes for a speedy recovery. No one will bother you again.” “We’d appreciate that,” Minho said. “Thanks.” He hated to say it, but figured they both heard the crisp edge to it. Hadn’t instructed it to happen? Clearly there’d been enough talk to frustrate the hell out of someone. And it didn’t have to be a full on instruction for someone to take the hint that maybe it’d be nice to someone from the ranch to get a little scared, just to really prove how serious they were about it all. Chan stayed standing until the car was fully gone, and then reclaimed his spot on the swing, settling Minho’s legs right where they had been on his lap. “Maybe he’ll think I’m so awed by his display of sympathy and so terrified by their unprovoked attack that I’ll go running to them to sell,” Minho said, and held out his hand, Chan taking it, squeezing it. “If only he knew he was too late,” Chan said. The ink was dry on the contract, so yeah, there wasn’t anything anyone could’ve done to change it. “Now as long as you don’t bump me off, we’ll be okay,” Minho said. Chan laughed, bouncing their joined hands. “I don’t think I’d survive it, based on how I felt when I didn’t know if you were okay.” Good. Job security was important. When Chan was ready to go back to work, Minho went inside, letting his head rest in the darker, cooler living room. He turned the TV on but more listened to it than watched it, and hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he sensed movement. When he opened his eyes it was to Chan, just starting to crouch down in front of him, big smile on his face. And that wasn’t all, as he seemed to be speckled in what Minho hoped was dirt. He looked like he had dozens of freckles, and the laugh out of Minho’s throat was a little hoot as Minho blinked some more life into his eyes. “Hello,” he said, since Chan was still just smiling at him. Chan reached out then with a hand that looked a lot cleaner than his face did, and just barely brushed Minho’s chin. “Hey. I’m just heading up to get cleaned up. I wouldn’t have stopped but I saw you move. I don’t get enough chances to see you sleep.” “Okay. Creepy.” Chan giggled. “I’ll be back.” “Mm,” Minho agreed, and tried to rub the life back into his face after he got sat up. It felt like the arm of the couch had printed itself on him. There was sound from the kitchen, probably Jeongin looking to see what they were going to eat. He was halfway there with his crutches when Chan came back downstairs. It got him a hug, and he told Chan about his lazy afternoon as Minho got installed on a stool and given the task of cutting up vegetables. Oh yeah, he was finally getting better. *** “Chan!” Minho wasn’t sure if it was a name he said as he came up out of sleep, but it was a sound out of his throat that woke him. He knew he’d been shouting Chan’s name in the dream, so that was what he interpreted it as. And he knew he’d woken Chan, so sitting up didn’t matter as he tried to rub the terror out of his chest. Chan turned the bedside light on, and it brought back some other semblance of normalcy. It was Chan’s room, the TV on the wall, guitar in the corner. Minho’s clothes were draped over a chair. He wasn’t in the nightmare any more. Chan moved to kneel beside him, and he held up a hand, holding off Chan’s instinct to touch for another moment. If he could have run in his dream, he would have. But he stared at the length of Chan’s bare thighs beneath the hem of his shorts and relied on that to pull him free the rest of the way. “I dreamed—“ Minho started, the words getting stuck partway. “I dreamed you were in the car with me that day, riding along. And I got out and waited for you to follow me but your belt was stuck. And the truck started to back up and I was yelling at you to hurry. But in the dream, it changed so you were buckled in the driver’s seat, and the door was gone so the truck was going to hit you directly. And for some reason, I was lying down in the dream like I’d fallen and I couldn’t move, or help, just— Then I woke up.” Chan’s exhale was slow. “Wow. That’d be awful.” “It’s weird to be having those kind of dreams now.” The panic of it. The change of it. Knowing Chan wasn’t going to make it out, or maybe not even survive. “I’m surprised you haven’t had more. Though, I’m glad you haven’t,” Chan said. He held out his hand and let Minho be the one to put his on it, to be the first to squeeze. “I’m safe. I’ll stay safe for you.” Chan’s face was shadowed, but he could see the empathy in it. And Chan met him, when Minho kissed him. He was safe and okay then, which was what mattered. “Cold,” Minho said. He both was and wasn’t. The crawling urge to get away turned into a desire to be touched, as Chan settled back and all but let Minho drape himself across his chest. There was a heart beating beneath his cheek, a hand rubbing his back. The dream was boxed away, drop kicked into oblivion. He was wrapped up in the warmth of reality instead. He knew, almost instantly, what had caused it. That oblong thought that sat awkwardly in his brain, the half-formed fear that wasn’t a logical fear that Chan would just cut him free. Instead of an accident making him lose Chan, it was everything around them, the contract, all of it. Though the danger was mostly internal. He still had his apartment. It wasn’t as though he had no place to go back to. The end of one thing wasn’t the end of everything. “If I had a private jet, I could take you anywhere you wanted. Where would you want to go?” Chan asked. Chan, trying to take his mind off of it. It was a quiet debate over the merits of various destinations, domestic, tropical. It lulled both of them to sleep. *** It took a whole week before his head really began to feel normal consistently again, and a little longer than that for his ankle to finish following suit. He could walk around the bathroom without weird twinges, as long as he was still fairly careful. He could get up and down the stairs in the same fashion, or around the kitchen. Even his face was more shades yellow and green than purpled with bruising. Over the week all of his pajamas and underclothes had migrated to reside in a dresser of Chan’s close to the bathroom door. Some of his regular clothes hung in Chan’s closet. He hadn’t spent one night alone since the accident, even if the time he spent along otherwise had mostly gone back to what it’d been before without there being excuses for Chan or Jeongin to look in on him. Chan had been keeping up with the books, so there was little to do when Minho sat at the business computer for the first time since the accident. In fact, there was a sticky note on the monitor that read, If you’re seeing this, don’t push yourself too hard! Chan and his foresight. He wrote his own message back, leaving it there with a smirk as he traveled to the kitchen. No crutches, but his ankle was supported by a brace doing more to remind him of his posture than anything else. It felt like freedom, getting to go where he wanted when he wanted, not having to use sticks to get there. He did mostly stick to the downstairs during the day, as the stairs were more of a stress than just walking around on the flat. He was able to go sit on the swing, able to make even a simple breakfast for everyone. The date of his checkup with his doctor was approaching, fast. It was Tuesday, his appointment was Friday, and he let the counter hold him up in the bathroom as Chan brushed his teeth to talk to him about the logistics of it. He was fine to walk enough to get on the train, he just needed to get there, per usual. “You wanted to go Thursday, right? I can spare Jeongin in the morning so he can drive you to the train,” Chan said, wiping his mouth after he’d rinsed it off. Minho caught a drip of water before it got too far down Chan’s chest. “Yeah. Day before is best so I don’t have to rush. I’ve been having my neighbor get my mail but I need to get that. Probably mostly junk.” “Isn’t it always,” Chan said. “How long…?” “I don’t know. A few days? A week? I need to do some shopping. See what else I need.” Chan nodded. “I can’t say I won’t miss you. I feel kind of whiney saying that. People who are dating go days without seeing each other. But it hurts.” He put his hand to his chest like he was wounded, and Minho sputtered at him. And Chan immediately clarified, “Though, it’s good to get your head and ankle checked up and stuff. Won’t hold you captive here or anything.” He didn’t want Minho to feel bad for going. Minho gave him a hug for that. Also because he looked very nice standing there without his shirt on. “It’s possible I might miss you a little,” Minho said, squinting at the bathroom wall. “I’ll have to report back after I get back, though.” Chan chuckled into his shoulder. “I’ll look forward to hearing about it.” The kiss was minty, and lingered, but Chan also left him to his own business. And after a shower he hadn’t had to announce, he got ready for bed. Hanging up his own towel! Putting his own clothes in the hamper! Not having to think about where his crutches went! Chan was lounging on the bed, still in nothing but his shorts, tapping one foot like he was listening to music only in his head as he scrolled on his phone. Chan’s hyper awareness to every move Minho made fading was almost as gratifying as the pain of it being gone had been. In fact, it took Minho standing very still and admiring him for Chan to come aware that something was strange. He looked at Minho, and blinked cutely at him. “Hello?” Chan said, suddenly very still. He was able to sit on the edge of the bed and kiss his post-shower fluffy-haired boyfriend. And then when he was satisfied and Chan was humming, kiss him to another plateau of satisfaction. And for kicks, another after that. “Who left you here alone?” Minho said, like he was scolding past him. It made Chan giggle into the next kiss. Chan had never tried to push him, if that was the term he was looking for. They’d gotten lost kissing a few times, mostly delightful, and yet, something had always pulled Minho out of it. When his neck had been sore, the angle had hurt, or his ankle had been in a weird position, or his lip or stomach had hurt, or his head had felt funny. Always something. And when he’d had to stop, there were no arguments, no whines. Concern, sure, or Chan kissing his cheek, or helping him into a more comfortable position to rest. He was certainly getting all the touching he needed and more, but he also daily had a man walking around in front of him, or sleeping beside him, with no shirt on. Before the accident, he’d have interpreted that as a suggestion for Minho to jump him immediately. After, he was looking respectfully. And squirreling the thoughts it inspired away for when none of those things would be in the way. And right then, that night, it wasn’t in the way. If Chan didn’t get the hint from Minho kissing him, or - still carefully, climbing onto the bed to straddle him, Minho lifting his own shirt over his head certainly got his attention. Chan blinked, looking him over for several long seconds, hand raising like some kind of zombie who wanted to touch and couldn’t figure out how to go about it. He waited, breath partly held as Chan stroked along his skin, and couldn’t help but be satisfied by the awe. He let that be the lure, letting Chan follow him until it was Chan over him. His ankle, good enough to walk on, had protested the awkward angle of sitting over Chan. That was something that could wait, but Minho couldn’t. “You have full permission to take advantage,” Minho said. “You too,” Chan said, face close to Minho’s. The sound Chan made as Minho groped him through his shorts was almost a growl. He had no right being that big all over, making Minho want him that much. Condoms. He’d— “I bought condoms!” Minho burst out, making Chan stare at him from an inch away. “What?” “When I went to the store, before the accident, I bought condoms. I had them in a bag in the car.” “We got everything out of the trunk,” Chan said. “I— I didn’t see any when we unpacked the bags?” “They weren’t in the trunk. I had them in the front seat.” And Minho’s head fell back onto the pillow as all the steam left him. “They probably ended up on the floor or something during the accident. Jeongin only got my phone out.” “I’m supposed to go pick up what they got out of the car when they towed it to the junk yard,” Chan said. “If they were still in there, they’ll be with that stuff.” The sound Minho made was of frustration and Chan petted him softly, like it was Minho’s trial alone and not both of theirs. The hope and the disappointment all at once. When he came back he was going to bring back dozens. Or, as many as needed to get through until he got his results from his doctor’s visit, or until they mutually decided they might not want to use them, or— Fuck. As many times as possible. Chan tugged him closer, lips parting against Minho’s just after he’d murmured something. His ears shorted somewhere before, and definitely during the kiss. Had Chan said Come here, baby? Maybe his ears had malfunctioned. Maybe the malfunction of those also made his brain malfunction because one moment his general being was like the disappointment of a deflating balloon just starting to go wrinkly, and the next he was full to the brink of overcapacity. “What?” he asked, gasping for air a little bit as he struggled to survive the aftermath of the kiss as well. “What?” Chan asked him back so genuinely that he was definitely not being mocked. He had no idea what Minho was asking him, or why. “Baby,” he said. Nothing else. Ah, the light dawned, as Chan began to grin. “Do you not like that?” “I need more than two seconds to figure that out,” Minho said, though his ears had made the decision for him, starting to burn. “Okay,” Chan said agreeably, lowering his head closer to Minho’s again. “We can find out.” He wasn’t Chan’s horse. He didn’t need to be gentled. But the kiss Chan laid on him then was far from sweet. It made one of his legs draw up, hand lifting to curl into Chan’s hair. More, he thought as he took in a ragged inhale, only faintly registering Chan’s hand sliding along his hip. He’d never been more angry at himself for that missing bag of condoms. He’d put it in the front of the car with him so Jeongin wouldn’t have accidentally unpacked it and traumatized himself. He should have sewn it into his shirt instead. The soft sound Chan made as Minho’s teeth caught his bottom lip drove all of that from his head. All of it. He was going to focus on what he had instead of what he didn’t. And what he had was a man who was hard for him, who wiggled out of his shorts for him, who kissed jagged lines across Minho’s chest and collarbones and made his lungs tight. It wasn’t all that different than in the barn, but he had no need to preserve Chan’s dignity or ability to keep working. There wasn’t dust and the scent of hay, no curious animals just outside. He had Chan exactly where he was wanted, breathing so carefully as Minho took his time stroking him, kissing him. He was taking Chan any way he could get him. And that took nothing away from how pleased he was then, eyes on Chan as he gently squeezed. There was no greater satisfaction than watching Chan having to brace himself as Minho took him apart. The way his face changed, desperation almost indistinguishable from pain. And the euphoric relief of it, the rush, the dark stare as Minho watched him and reveled in his success. Did that mean he was in trouble, as Chan kissed him? Only as much trouble as Chan was willing to give him, and as much Minho was willing to give Chan just as much back - to let Chan have the control. But while he might have lingered like that, watching Chan come had been more than enough to set him near the edge, and having Chan touch him only kept him there. Chan traced Minho’s bottom lip with a finger, kissed him there, his chin, his neck. And Minho clasped onto Chan’s shoulder, needing the stability, feeling like he’d fall even though he was safely pinned under Chan. “So gorgeous,” Chan almost crooned at him. And his voice dropped, unfurling like velvet, “Will you come for me, baby?” It was embarrassing how quickly he fell apart, a denial strangling in his throat, Chan’s face so bright, so determined. In the end he couldn’t look, grabbing behind Chan’s neck, muffling himself in Chan’s shoulder. “That was mean,” he muttered, when he remembered how to speak. Chan nuzzled against his cheek. “Not to me.” Cleanup was fairly quick anyway, as they both finished getting ready for bed. And when Chan was back in bed beside him, he stroked along Minho’s arm. Some other kind of connection. “We’ve inaugurated the bed now,” Minho mused. “Why does it make sense the barn was first?” Chan laughed from beside his cheek. “Somehow it does.” Somehow it did. *** The urge to take Chan’s arm and walk to the barn the next day was strong. To see Meadow, to pet the horses, to have it be normal again there, too. But he also thought of the day after, needing to walk to the train, to get to his apartment. If he hurt himself, strained his ankle, it’d make that twice as hard, or maybe even twice as difficult. So if he pouted while resting on the swing and watching Chan work, he couldn’t help it. There wasn’t any need to pack a big bag, but it felt odd like he was going on a visit to his own apartment and not remembering what he still had left there. It led to him packing a pair of pajamas at the very least, and a set of clothes, too small for the too-big suitcase. All of the clothes he pilfered from Chan’s room. Chan had been rather circumspect about Minho recovering and still lingering to inhabit Chan’s space. Person and clothes both. However, Minho also hadn’t opened his mouth to inquire if Chan wanted him to move back down the hall, either. Chan was a big boy capable of using his words. If he’d gotten the feeling Chan wanted him to go, he’d have asked, but he hadn’t. Chan was not…the most subtle of humans in that regard. He didn’t think he possessed some kind of supernatural Chan radar, either. They were dating, not mind-melding. Still, Chan did the honors carrying the suitcase down the stairs for him the night before. He half wondered if he’d imagined the alarm on Chan’s face on seeing the big suitcase, or the fading of it when Chan had realized it was feather light and mostly empty. He definitely had not imagined Chan sleeping a little closer to him that night than he usually did. Even if they cuddled a bit, or fell asleep that way, they didn’t stay like that the whole night. But Chan had definitely had some part of himself on some part of Minho both times Minho had woken up. And he’d seemed as reluctant to leave Minho there in bed as he’d been the first morning after the accident. Just for different reasons that was all. “We’ll leave in about an hour?” Jeongin suggested when he’d come in for breakfast. All of Minho’s electronics were packed, and he was fully dressed. His ankle was wrapped just in case, and ready for his high topped boots. That part he hadn’t had any concerns about. Chan nodded at Jeongin since they’d already briefly discussed it, but Jeongin was quick to ask, “When are you coming back?” He was so eager about it, like there was no question in his mind that Minho was coming back. Only when, not if. Somehow that belief was more startling than Chan’s was. “A few days to a week or so.” Jeongin made a sound of distress. “We’ll starve.” “We managed to feed ourselves before. And Minho’s been teaching us a few things,” Chan said. Jeongin just stared at Chan a moment. “We’ll starve.” It made all of them laugh. “He knows he’s welcome back any time,” Chan said, and Minho nodded at him. Because he did know. He thought, even if Chan had been able to buy everything back, that would’ve been true also. That was a strange and uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Chan and Jeongin both hugged him goodbye, though Jeongin’s half hug, half pat happened when he dropped him off. Chan had certainly been the only one to kiss him goodbye, to murmur for Minho’s ears only that he’d be missed. He knew Chan well enough to see the worry lurking there, like there was some fear that maybe Minho wouldn’t come back. *** The doctor was Minho’s first priority. Any lingering symptoms of headaches and weird feelings had faded, his bruises yellowing, lip healed. He told the doctor that his ankle had been the one thing that’d lingered longest, twinges even after the initial swelling had passed. He was able to walk around with bare feet without much trouble. With a good supportive high topped boot or shoe, he’d been able to get to the train and around the city fine. The doctor cleared him to start walking more beyond that, so not just around the house but to ease up if he felt any discomfort or lingering stiffness. The muscle pain from the wrenching around had also gone, but his doctor was very thorough talking to him about all of it. Still, the doctor said his ankle looked good, that he seemed overall fine. They took blood to test that, and it was one less thing to worry about. Chan sent him several thumbs up in response when Minho told him about it. They talked a little while on the phone before Chan went to bed, and there wasn’t any kitchen to putter around in or big TV to watch, or computer to poke at to enter receipts onto. The last part was probably the most concerning. He was missing work? Meadow was work, too, but she was a little more interactive, and he didn’t feel as weird missing her. Chan’s offhand mention that she was about big enough to stop getting bottles had made him a little sad. He’d known it was coming. It was funny because that’d been his “excuse” to go back the first time, and so much had happened since then. A thin excuse, when his real excuse had been more two legged and handsome. Minho had always tended to be an early riser, but a car alarm woke up earlier than he’d really been intending on his second day at his apartment. There wasn’t any appointment to go to, as he wasn’t meeting Jisung until the next day, but sleep still eluded him. The coffee he had at the little table by his kitchen felt almost claustrophobic. He was used to the airy dining room, or sitting on the porch. And there was no urgency to it. Chan would be getting up, going to feed Meadow, getting about his day. No good morning kiss when Chan got back from taking care of the cows, or appreciation over what he’d happened to put together for breakfast - even if it was something simple. It wasn’t impossible that he’d conditioned himself that quickly. Jeongin was a nice kid, laughing as he helped Minho clean up the kitchen. And Chan was— Minho missed the kitchen. The coffee maker. The full sized oven and fridge. The couch, because all he had was an armchair. There wasn’t any Meadow to moo at him to hurry him up, or barn cat asking for scratches and hoping he was sloppy with Meadow’s bottle. No Chan to catch him around the waist and breathe into his neck. But when he was at the ranch, he missed being able to order takeout, to be lazy, and let someone else do the cooking. Though, it wasn’t like he’d been forced to take on that role. He’d done it because of the kitchen, and because he wanted to eat what he wanted to eat. And because he enjoyed feeding people. Chan was fully capable of cooking, too, and had. Jeongin had gotten in there, too. At the ranch he couldn’t just pop down to get coffee somewhere close, or go easily to a movie, or meet up with friends. But at night, there wasn’t any man welcoming him in, smiling against his hair, holding Minho like he was precious. He’d seen Chan touch his horse, Meadow or any of the other cows the same way. Affection. Care. But not the same way. Because he’d heard those whispered words a few nights after he’d gotten home from the hospital. I love you. Chan loved effortlessly, cared effortlessly. He cared about the ranch, the animals, Jeongin, stray dogs, chickens, all of it. It wasn’t really any surprise he’d folded Minho right into all those things. It almost felt like that to Chan love was simple. Minho was someone he cared about, therefore…he was loved. He’d dated. He’d been loved before. It’d never woken him up at dawn with an ache in his chest like he was somewhere he shouldn’t be. As soon as stores started opening, he was out of the apartment immediately. Dodging people on the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street, browsing different shops. Prices were a little cheaper, so he got a couple of new pairs of jeans, some socks that would hold up to the mud a little better. The boots he had were good, but if they got wet, he had nothing else, so he bought another pair and on impulse, a shirt for Chan. The benefit of borrowing someone’s shirts was knowing what size they wore. It was a little fancier than what Chan usually wore, but Minho thought it might be nice for a night out. Or a night in. It provoked him to look for something for himself, remembering how Chan had looked at him before the dinner with the investor. He felt the fabric of several shirts in a dressier shop and chose one. He didn’t even try to lie to himself about why. Chan was going to like it, he knew that. After his bags were deposited, and he was still full from lunch, it felt like all the air went out of the apartment. He wanted to show Chan what he’d bought, chat with him while he put groceries away. Joke with him as they went over that week’s data entries. He ate out or ordered in every single meal he was there, not bothering to do anything more serious than heat up water for tea or make coffee. All of it was good, convenient, everything he’d been missing. Almost like a vacation. But with the exception of seeing friends, none of it was the same. “This is my business partner,” Minho said, showing Jisung a picture of Chan standing by the work truck talking to Jeongin. His hair tufted out from under his hat that day. And the second picture was Chan with his shirt half undone, sitting next to Minho on the bed. He’d had a cutely puzzled expression on his face when Minho lifted up the phone to take the picture. It had been worth it, to get the shot. “And this one is my boyfriend.” “I’m going to have to go dodge cows to see you, aren’t I?” Jisung asked, like he could see Minho’s future, after Minho had shown him several more pictures of Chan, of Meadow, of the ranch. “Like I’m never going to come back here?” Minho scoffed, but only belatedly realized his words hadn’t argued what he thought they had. “I bet everyone thinks I’ve lost my mind.” Jisung smirked. “Not when they see his picture. ‘What does he do for entertainment out there? Ohhh.’” “Ha. I’ve been an ornament lately,” Minho said, shaking his head and snorting. “But hey, all’s not lost. Chan’s neighbor is single. He’s a farmer.” Jisung eyed him skeptically, as though Minho was offering him a sewer rat instead of an eligible man of unknown orientation. While Minho loved Meadow absolutely, and the horses were fine, the barn could’ve come or gone. The house and the kitchen, he was obviously more keen on that. He was painfully aware he was alone in the apartment, and once upon a time that hadn’t bothered him. He was used to being alone, thinking his own thoughts. But he also had a lot of time alone at the ranch, leisurely walks with the dog when he wasn’t out working, relaxing in front of the TV, or even eating lunch by himself some days when they’d gone up to the higher pastures. At night, too, before he’d started sleeping in Chan’s bed, he’d had a lot of time alone. And after, he’d stayed awake some nights reading, and Chan had been dead asleep so hardly a drain on Minho’s brain. It gave him time to remember, though, to sort through letters he’d exchanged with his uncle. Some well predated the original contracts with Chan, and he didn’t find anything in those. But when he did find it, he knew. The letter was vague enough that Minho hadn’t remembered it. There weren’t any bells and whistles or fireworks, or even talk of cows. I have a friend with a place outside of the city that I invested in. He’s a nice young man I hope you’ll be able to meet soon. That’s the kind of man you should keep. I think even your parents would like him. Minho burst out a laugh, letting his head fall back. If his parents had read something like that they’d have been appalled. He was being encouraged in his wayward ways! And there he’d gone, met the man and… Well, he wasn’t sure about keeping him, but he was pretty sure there’d been thoughts in that direction. Chan wasn’t the kind of person someone set out to date with fleeting intention. He screamed permanence. The kind of man Minho would’ve been skeptical of. If he hadn’t been so…everything. It made him want to laugh at himself for it. He didn’t think his uncle had meant for him to go to the ranch, adopt a cow as a child, and get pseudo-married to the man he owned a business with. Chan sent him a picture before he went to bed, his face partially hidden by the pillow, looking both cute and soft. Just thinking of Minho. Convenient, as he’d spent the evening thinking of Chan. That’s not a pillow I had my ankle propped on, right? he texted back. Though, he left a thumbs up emoji on the picture itself. He laughed at Chan’s crying response. *** Something was wrong. The car wouldn’t go. It wouldn’t— Minho woke with a start, a siren outside screaming past. He felt for Chan, to make sure he was all right and wasn’t going to worry about Minho jolting awake, and remembered, belatedly, that he was in his apartment, in his own bed. Just him and his mostly-healed ankle. A glance at the time told him if Chan wasn’t awake, he soon would be. He half thought about calling, asking Chan if he’d be willing to get him from the train station, or send Jeongin to. They’d texted about it, sure, but Minho had been noncommittal about any dates to do so. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been ready to be back, or hadn’t wanted to go back. Chan was one day going to look at him, in full light, and tell Minho that he loved him. And then what? He could hyena laugh, or he could say it back. He could watch those soft eyes get softer. It made him groan as he rolled over, considering the empty space beside him where Chan would’ve been. “I love you,” he said experimentally to the not-outline. There wasn’t any response. But that in itself was one. It’d been the one question Jisung hadn’t asked him - was Minho in love with Chan? Was that why he kept going back. If it was true, why was he there? Enjoying a break he was only partially enjoying. He rolled out of bed for real that time, hauling up the large suitcase he’d taken with him that was mostly empty. He remembered Chan’s face seeing it, and then feeling how light it was. Yeah, he’d been meaning to go back. He hadn’t had any question about it. All his new clothes, he packed into it. More from his closet, his dressers. Parts were already bare, like he’d abandoned some of himself. What happened if— He still had a lease for three months. He didn’t have to think about any of it right then. He again considered the train, and then looked at the pile he had. A stuffed suitcase. A couple of boxes, his computer bag. The next train didn’t leave for another three hours, and all it would be was waiting. An hour and a half later he was loading bags and boxes into a rental car. All of his new purchases, random belongings, his suitcase, and an extra suitcase. All the groceries he’d bought the day before. He didn’t even have to stop at the grocery store for extras. He’d gotten so used to making enough for three, he had plenty. He didn’t tell Chan he was coming, but he did send a text, Going to send you a surprise later. In person, in fact. He did have to cue up the address of the ranch on his phone to be sure he was getting out of the city correctly. He had music, and faster than the train would have let him, left the city behind.   *** The ranch truck wasn’t in front of the barn when he pulled into the driveway. No one was in the barn, either, though one of the horses was gone. He kissed Meadow’s nose and told her how big she was as he stroked her face. He gave her a little treat, and went back across the yard. The house was equally as empty when he let himself in. Off working, which was fine. He unloaded the car of the groceries, his shoulder bag, and dirty clothes bag. He started a load of laundry, and glancing at the time, started lunch. He heard the truck come rumbling into the yard, and peered out to watch Chan and Jeongin both send curious glances at the empty car. And he saw when Chan began to get the right thought, a sudden hurry as he moved toward the house. Minho put down the kitchen towel, and moved towards the door, grinning as Chan burst through it. “I thought so! You didn’t tell me you were coming!” It was scold and joy both as Chan got to him and squeezed him tight. “Welcome back.” “Good to be back,” Minho said, and had to put off greeting Jeongin for a moment because all of his focus turned to Chan kissing him, and then squeezing him again. The best he could do was get a pinky locked with Jeongin’s while Jeongin laughed at them. “Why didn’t you call?” Chan asked, stroking down his arms and looking him over with relish like he still couldn’t believe that Minho was there. “Wanted it to be a surprise. I had too much stuff to take on the train and didn’t want to wait any more, so I rented a car.” “The best surprise,” Chan said. “Was the drive okay?” Jeongin asked, probably so Chan didn’t get lost in having Minho in front of him again. He could almost feel Chan’s mental tail wagging. “It was! Had to use my phone for directions to get out of the city but it was pretty straightforward from there. There are still things in the car. My suitcase, and—” “I’ll get them out for you. And your ankle?” Chan asked. “A little stiff, but it was fine after I moved around some.” Though, he blinked at Chan’s head. “You cut your hair!” “I didn’t myself, or I’d have ended up with a racing stripe or something, but yeah. Before I started peering out of it like one of those sheepdogs.” “That might’ve been okay,” Minho said, and Chan tsked at him. “Got mine cut, too,” Jeongin said, again Minho expected, to keep their focus on real life and not each other. “It looks very nice, too,” Minho said. Jeongin thanked him, and eased by them to the kitchen. “You didn’t say mine looked nice,” Chan whispered, biting his lower lip. Though his eyes weren’t petulant, they were mischievous. “I was planning to show you,” Minho whispered back, and got a different expression back altogether. “Um, the food,” Jeongin said from beyond the counter. Right. Lunch. He shot Chan a glance, and they got to that. He filled them in on his journey, uneventful as it was, and heard more about what’d happened while he was gone. Calves had gotten vaccines. Even Meadow. “She got a nice rubdown and a treat afterwards,” Jeongin said. “None of the other calves would’ve appreciated it. Well. The treat, maybe.” “She was very brave,” Chan agreed. When they were done, and there was nothing holding anyone in the house any longer, Chan looked at him when Minho held him back from following Jeongin. “Tonight, let’s eat, just the two of us. I’ll make enough for Jeongin, too, but—“ Chan’s lips curved and he leaned in for a kiss that lingered just a bit longer. “Sounds good. I’ll look forward to it.” So would Minho. When he went upstairs to see where Chan had taken the suitcase and boxes, he found them in Chan’s room. It made him sit on the bed for a minute, stroking the corduroy that had only gotten more familiar. It seemed like Chan didn’t consider it to be only his room any more. *** Minho’s first goal after getting his clothes in the dryer was to see Meadow properly again. Out of city clothes, into the boots he’d left behind, and he eased right into her stall as she lowed and walked right up to him and pressed against him. “Hi baby girl,” he said, and had to look up as the voice that came out of his mouth sounded very much like Chan. He ignored it, in favor of giving her all the attention he could. He got brushes out and she stood leaning into him. She hadn’t forgotten him through everything. Not that he’d been away through most of it of his own choice. It made him think of Chan offering to run him around in the wheelbarrow, and he cackled and patted Meadow’s backside. “Go play. I’ve got work to do.” He wouldn’t reclaim his full time place feeding her, not quite yet. He had plans for that day, particularly. And part of it was him resting part of the afternoon and giving his leg a break. And the other part was getting prepared for dinner, in both grooming and cooking. Everything was as he wanted it to be by the time that Chan and Jeongin came in. “That smells amazing,” Chan said, and Jeongin agreed. “Good, then go clean up. I put something on your bed for you to wear,” Minho said. Chan looked intrigued by that, but Jeongin stepped right up to the counter. “I’ll get mine and go right away then,” Jeongin said, like he could see which way the wind blew and wanted no part of it. “And I won’t come back ’til lunch.” Minho just smiled at Chan before turning to get Jeongin’s plate fixed. By the time he saw Jeongin out the door, Chan had disappeared upstairs, and when Minho made his own way up, he could hear the shower going in Chan’s room. It wasn’t a bad thought at all, as he changed into his new shirt that he’d hung in the bathroom he’d used at first, put in a different pair of earrings that dangled a little. Nothing he’d worn before that Chan had seen. All of it only for Chan. He added a favorite scent to his neck, and a subtle sheen to his lips before making his way back downstairs. Chan had seen him before. A few new accessories weren’t going to change all that much. And yet, his breath was held when he heard Chan ambling down the stairs. And for a moment after Chan turned the corner, they just looked at each other. The shirt he’d bought for Chan hadn’t been quite true black, instead darkest charcoal gray, but the color suited him just as much. The gray made the fabric look like it would be soft to the touch, a fact he knew for certain. The cut of it showed off his shoulders, his arms, and so carefully buttoned at his wrists. The first couple of buttons at his throat were undone, and Chan had paired it with dark jeans. Minho was pleased, very pleased, with his choice. “You look…” And Chan made a sound of frustration as the words he wanted didn’t seem to want to come to him. “You look…” Minho stayed still, letting Chan reach out to touch the silky sheen of the purple shirt that Minho had changed into. Perhaps Chan had thought what Minho had been wearing when he came in had been what he’d stay in? An old t-shirt? No. He’d meant it that the dinner had been for both of them. And gratified as he was, the knowledge that Chan would’ve been happy even if he had still had on the old t-shirt flashed heat up his neck. “You look good,” Minho said. “I like the shirt! I assumed you wanted me to wear pants with it,” Chan said. “That was the correct assumption,” Minho said, and made them both giggle. The thought of Chan coming downstairs in nothing but the shirt and his underwear was an amusing thought. Not unwelcome, though. “I bought both of these for tonight.” “I’m glad you did,” Chan said, and touched a fingertip to the dangle of Minho’s earrings. Those hands that could wrestle a cow or haul up hay bales were impossibly gentle. “You’re gorgeous.” It was possible, he discovered, to get lost in the way Chan looked at him. His eyes were not soft, not gentle. Not even particularly hungry, but it still felt like he was being consumed. “We should eat,” Minho said. “Oh, right,” Chan said, like he’d forgotten that dinner had been the reason he’d come down for. But Minho allowed him to lean in, the soft, experimental little kiss. “I like that, too.” Speaking of the gloss. He hadn’t worn that out, with the investor. Of the two men, he’d only wanted one to kiss him. “Would it take less time to list what you don’t like?” “Probably,” Chan said after he’d paused a moment, laughing hard. Chan was still laughing to himself as Minho brought their plates. The house didn’t run to fancy candles, and Minho hadn’t thought that far ahead, so what there was was a squat little candle that smelled faintly of the ocean. But it was a candle, and none of it diminished Chan’s enjoyment and praise of the food, or of having Minho sitting with him. “Missed you,” Chan said, and shrugged at himself. “I mean, we talked or texted every day, but still.” “Yeah. You know the main reason why I drove back today?” Chan shook his head, but watched Minho, wanting the answer. “I got startled awake by a siren and reached for you to let you know I was okay.” Chan’s eyes were dark and so serious hearing it. “Well, I’ll be there if you wake up again. I mean, if you’re there, or I’d be close—“ He floundered for a second, assuming Minho would be in his bed. “As long as you want me there,” Minho said. “I definitely do. It was nice having you close, not just so I knew you were okay,” Chan said, and exhaled. “You know, it’s funny. At first, I was a little concerned that this would get in the way of figuring out the business stuff. Then it was more like worrying the business stuff might get in the way of this. You know when I first knew I was setting myself up to be pretty gone?” “No,” Minho said. “When you bought your boots. Not just that you had the common sense to, because you definitely needed them. I guess I didn’t think if you just bought them to stay a week, but it felt like… Felt like you meant to stay around.” “Boots. Not what I looked like or anything else,” Minho clarified, laughing. “I mean, I already knew you were pretty. Jeongin got an earful after you got here.” Oh? Had he? That was charming. “How done with us is he?” Chan flattened his lips for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. That much, then. “He didn’t have to hear about you from me, anyway. Friends, though…” “Oh? What did you tell them about me?” Chan asked. And then fluttered his lashes as Minho looked at him, caught between finding it cute and pitying him. “I showed pictures. That did most of the talking for me. Though, I think some of them think I might have lost it.” “Invite them out!” Chan said. “Once the insurance gets untangled and we replace the car, you can have them come in by train and pick them up any time. We have room.” We. He wasn’t sure if Chan knew what he implied, or if he did, if he knew how much it sent Minho’s brain into a pinwheel. He didn’t tease Chan that he’d be willing for Minho to drive another car of his. The accident hadn’t been his fault after all. He didn’t doubt the memory of it was going to make them think of it more than a few times, though, new car or not. “Then I’ll have to be the one protecting their shoes from manure piles,” Minho mused. Chan’s smile at him was delighted, and then curious as Minho pointed out an envelope beside him. The letter from Minho’s uncle that spoke of Chan and how Minho would like him. He watched Chan’s face as he read the letter. “Maybe he really did leave you me,” Chan joked. “Maybe,” Minho said. “My parents were…less than thrilled? When I came out. They never cast me off, but I could tell. My great uncle didn’t care. He never married, actually. I never asked him if— I don’t know. If he thought I should hook up with you then he thought you were cute.” Minho smiled as Chan scoffed. No, his uncle had really liked Chan, that much was obvious. It wasn’t hard to see why. “Do your parents know?” he asked Chan. And Chan shook his head. “No. I’ve never really had a reason to tell them until now. I don’t think they’ll be upset, though. Even if they weren’t happy here long term, they wanted me to be. And I was. And I am.” It was sweet, the way Chan smiled. And made Minho want to hide under the table. Not because of Chan. He just wasn’t physically capable of absorbing that much energy. It just wasn’t allowed by the laws of physics. “Do they come here much?” Minho asked. “Sometimes. Usually they’ll make a trip around my birthday, give or take. Sometimes I’ll go to them around Christmas or New Year. Usually not right on it, because I don’t like taking other people away from their families.” Of course he wouldn’t. He wondered if Jeongin went home to his family for the holidays. It’d be a quieter time, no calves or anything. He wondered if Chan usually spent those holidays alone, then, him, the horses, and cows. It was possible he wouldn’t be alone, though, not that year. But that was leaping way too far ahead for a dinner in the middle of the year. There was dessert, carefully tucked in the fridge, but Minho didn’t retrieve it right away after they’d finished eating. After Chan helped him carry their dishes to the sink, Chan stayed close to him. “What’s on your plans next?” Chan asked, tugging Minho closer. “Well, there is a brand new pack of playing cards in the drawer. Or, there’s a perfectly nice bed upstairs—“ “Two even,” Chan said, grinning. “I do have condoms this time.” “I do like a man who’s prepared. I brought some, too,” Minho said. And raised his eyebrows as Chan felt over Minho’s back pockets. “Not with me. I thought we could at least make it up the stairs.” He’d be forgiven for his assumptions, however, given that one time in the barn. The way Chan nuzzled him, kissed him, was sweet, but his next words weren’t. “Let’s go upstairs, then,” Chan said. And taking Chan’s hand, Minho followed. *** Still holding Chan’s hand, Minho took the bag he’d set on top of Chan’s dresser and dumped the contents onto the bed. Four boxes of condoms. Varying types. Chan burst out laughing seeing them. “Is this a challenge?” Minho smirked at him. “How many did you get?” Well, they were set then. With Chan’s two additional boxes, held up to both cheeks for a second like they were dimple accessories - he wished he’d had his phone to take a picture - they could’ve had them on all their fingers and toes, and— They were set, yeah. Chan closed the door, maybe out of habit for privacy, pulling back the blanket. Basically getting the room ready as though they were getting ready to sleep. He wasn’t sure why in that moment it was as good as foreplay. He hadn’t been quite sure if they’d been set to tackle each other to the bed, barely getting clothes off, just wild with it. There’d be other times like that, he had no doubt. Instead, he followed Chan like a lure, walking up to him, feeling Chan’s nose brush against his. And goosebumps scattered his skin as Chan kissed him, touching him with nothing more than his mouth for a moment before Chan’s hands spanned against the belt at his waist. The same man who’d ridden up to him on a black horse and nearly scared him out of his skin. The same man whose hands slid over his back pockets and gripped him close, greedy but not yet desperate. “I guess you’re real,” Chan murmured, and Minho laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.” And with his eyes on Chan’s, he reached up, undoing one of Chan’s buttons. And then another, as Chan kept stroking his back and sides through the silky fabric. “You like that?” “Very much,” Chan said. “Me, too. Though I regret getting shirts with buttons,” Minho said, grinning up at him for a second before getting back to the task. “As great as you look tonight, the wait is worth it,” Chan said. Maybe they’d seen everything there was to see, but when they were revealed, Minho traced Chan’s chest and abs with the reverence they deserved. And watched as Chan undid the buttons at his cuffs, and the dark shirt slid off to no longer exist to either of them. He probably could’ve undone his own shirt faster, but the stubborn concentration of Chan as he worked the slick fabric to get the buttons free was attractive, Chan tugging at it little by little to pull it free of his waistband. And instead of freeing it the rest of the way, when Chan reached the bottom of it, he instead opened Minho’s belt, his jeans, and tugged down the zipper. Minho wasn’t sure what the thought in his head was until after, when they’d gotten the shirt off Minho’s arms, when Chan’s own arms had slid around him as they kissed. No, he understood then when all Chan had to do was wiggle the fabric to send Minho’s jeans sliding down to his knees, and his underwear followed. More skin for Chan to touch and tease, Minho’s breath sucking in as Chan’s fingertips teased over the seam of his thighs. But it was Chan who moaned against Minho’s mouth as Minho got his pants open. It showed him just how ready Chan was, nothing but skin beneath and Chan’s lips quirked as Minho stared. “You going to show me what you can do with this?” Minho asked. The cloth they left behind on the floor was in piles, none of it important. They had six boxes of condoms to choose from, none of those important either. “Just get me slick and just—“ Minho inhaled, head swimming as he’d forgotten to breathe with Chan’s fingers taking a fantastic journey inside of him. “Just give me—“ “In a minute, baby. Let me enjoy you,” Chan said against his cheek. His skin almost glowed with the heat of the sudden flush. But if Chan expected that he would be sated by those words, he was mistaken. Oh, sure, he let Chan have his fun trying to rudely make Minho’s brain begin boiling from how good Chan was making him feel, but when he couldn’t take it any more he pulled Chan’s head closer, sinking his teeth into Chan’s earlobe and getting a gasp when he sealed his lips and sucked. Minho laughed at the retaliatory nip to his jaw. “Not my fault,” Minho said. “But is it really all mine?” Chan teased. “I think so. Not that I don’t think your fingers are really— Wo-onderful,” Minho said, voice cracking as he tried to get the word out, and Chan watching him, amused. The jerk. “I just want more. It’s been a minute.” More than. But it made Chan giggle and kiss him and get one of those fabled condoms in his hands. He knew, cerebrally, that it wasn’t going to be anything like Chan’s fingers. Nice and sturdy as they were, as good as they’d felt, as much as Chan had enjoyed it, no. No, he knew it was going to be different. But when Chan looked to him, got the go-ahead, and began to press into him, Minho realized he’d severely underestimated. Oh, he was plenty slick enough. And Chan had done a fabulous job of preparing him. No, there wasn’t any fault in any of that. It was his body. He thought his first instinct might have been to squirm, to resist being so utterly filled, but instead he froze, his eyes rolling back and a moan rolling out. “You all right?” Chan asked, which Minho was impressed he could hear over the ringing in his ears. Minho wheezed. “I might never be again.” Chan took it, as Minho had meant, as the compliment it was, but every little vibration of Chan’s body as he laughed only ramped up the tension in Minho’s. “Please.” It wasn’t almost desperate, it was desperate. But he lingered in it only seconds before Chan was kissing him, murmuring, “I’ve got you.” Every move of Chan’s hips seemed to force an exhale, dragging air back in great gulps. It slowed, because Chan began to move to the rhythm of his breaths, and when Minho was able to force open his eyes, Chan was watching him. So intently, in fact, it took a second for Chan to realize Minho was watching him back. The focus, pleasure, melting to a smile, and Minho’s traitorous body squeezed because of it. It was going to give Chan the wrong impression. It was going to make Chan think that every time Minho saw him smile that Minho was going to be wanting him. It wasn’t wholly incorrect, it was just unfair that Chan was that… That… Inviting. The grin shared like they were equal parts conspirators in some grand scheme, even if that scheme was not losing his head and beginning to beg entirely. When Chan shifted over him, getting closer, Minho’s eyes weren’t sure if they wanted to close to feel it, or open wider. Had he known Chan would be good? In so many ways, yes, he was pretty sure he’d been confident. Chan knew how to take charge, how to listen. He knew how to touch with just the right amount of authority, but with strength held back in reserve. Minho had felt it when they’d kissed, when the only thing between them had been undeniable attraction, and not— Not everything else. It was the strength held back that was intriguing. He’d seen Chan fall apart, watched him lose his grip on himself as his head rolled. And Minho knew that given the right circumstances, Chan would be able to pound him into the next century. And that all of that was bound up in a pretty face, pretty muscles, prettier brain— He didn’t know how not to want. How not to…want to mark that neck as his, to feel the strength in his shoulders, his thighs. The mattress was very nice but he wondered what it would be like to be pinned against a wall, how it would change things. Clinging to Chan’s shoulders, feeling just how strong he was, and— He got deep enough in the beautiful thought that when Chan shifted, it brought him back with a strangled moan. “Hi,” Chan said. “Thought I’d lost you there for a minute.” “Got…distracted by all your muscles,” Minho said. And all the ways he wanted them. But Chan giggled, kissing him, making him shiver. He wanted Chan just like that, feeling his breath hitch as Minho’s thigh tried to find purchase on his side. That was what he’d been waiting for. The rest had been great, but getting Chan closer felt like everything. And if Chan didn’t know how to break Minho apart, he learned with alarming quickness. Moving with Minho, moving for Minho. The sudden jolt as Chan held his hips and sent a shudder through him. The way his moan had cracked at the sudden stroke of Chan’s fingers. Chan was feeling him out. And in feeling his way, he was succeeding. Chan inside him, Chan touching him, was almost more than his brain could handle. A bright keen as he tried to hold Chan closer somehow, tried to make it last just a little longer. But Chan wasn’t touching him for longevity, he was doing it to make Minho come. And maybe he’d have said it, but Chan was as beyond words as he was, barely able to shake his head, to moan against Minho’s cheek, like he was begging Minho to lead so he could follow. And on a stuttered breath, he did. He didn’t know if Chan’s name was only in his head, or if it actually passed his lips as well. He wasn’t sure if the groan was his, or Chan’s, if he moved, or if Chan moved him instead. His head thrashed against Chan’s as the pleasure consumed him, good ankle trying to brace him for more. It was like they were having a conversation of traded moans, accidentally tugging Chan’s hair, hearing him hiss, feeling him meet the same edge Minho had. It was the distant drumbeat in his ears, clinging to Chan in every way he could, trying to get more of him, the edge of pain only a half formed thought as Chan gripped him tighter, groaned for him. He kept his hands still, let Chan feel every last scrap of pleasure. And when Chan let out a ragged exhale, that was when Minho relaxed, if only partially. He let his neck give, let his arm sprawl on the mattress. The rest of him was too focused on feeling Chan still inside of him to give, but even that changed when Chan pulled away. He didn’t know how to classify the sound Chan made, but his own definitely sounded to his own ears as more like a squeak. Chan looked at him as though being sure he was okay, and finding that to be true, and the condom discarded, Chan met the bed like a tree losing its roots. Somehow Minho breathed through the aftermath, perplexed how it seemed like half of his thighs were slick, and lying next to a lump of a man who rested where he’d fallen, face down on the bed, arm across Minho’s stomach. They rested there, heads together, just breathing, for he didn’t know how long. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Long enough for the sweat to start to dry to a dull itch and his skin to begin cooling. Cool even with Chan’s furnace of a body blazing next to him. Minho reached down, patting Chan’s butt, and receiving a rather unholy sound for his effort. “Just wanted to be sure you were still alive,” Minho said. “Barely.” Barely was enough. He rested his head back down and almost tried to smooth the sweaty hair off his forehead before thinking better of it with whatever was still left on his hands. He wiped a hand on Chan’s back instead, getting an encouraging whine. “Could I interest you,” Minho whispered near Chan’s ear in his best try at ASMR, “in a trip to the shower?” From Chan’s increased stillness, Minho knew he’d caught his attention. It made him smile. “Do you know how many thoughts I’ve had about you in there with me?” Minho asked. That got Chan to turn his head a little more, snuffling against the sheet. “No. How many?” “A lot. When I was in there without you. Hearing you in there without me. Imagining what you looked like. Wondering what you were doing. Wondering if you were thinking of me, too.” “I was,” Chan said slowly. “Come show me,” Minho said. “I don’t know if I can,” Chan almost warned. “You don’t necessarily have to demonstrate. I just want to see you wet,” Minho said, pouting. “Come show me…baby.” He bit his lip in delight as Chan cursed and pushed himself up, eyes a little wild as they fixed on Minho’s face. Two could play, couldn’t they? Maybe Chan’s had been genuine, affectionate, reassuring. Maybe Minho’s had been mostly to see what rise he could get, but the effect clearly was the same. “Are you trying to kill me?” Chan asked. “I don’t think so. Not yet,” Minho said, wide-eyed and perfectly innocent, and fading into a smile as he sat up and took a hold of Chan’s forearm. “Come on. We need it.” They did, quite badly. They scurried across the bathroom floor, stiff muscles remembering how to work. Chan opened the shower from the other side, demonstrated how not to die in the cold water. Smart. Where had that detail been? Didn’t matter. When Chan stepped in and deemed the water acceptable, Minho stepped right up to him and closed the door behind him. He’d seen Chan soaked and almost shivering from rain. He’d seen Chan damp after his showers. But not like that. A living statue with water sluicing off of him, and Minho didn’t even realize he was biting his lower lip until Chan touched his chin and lifted his head to see him better. “My imagination wasn’t up to the challenge,” Minho said, admiring him. “Mine never was with you,” Chan said. “From the very beginning.” He accepted a kiss for that, and teased Chan into more. He didn’t know what it would take to get enough. His mouth already told him they’d been kissing, and plenty, and his body more than that. But everything else just seemed to fade. It was Chan’s focus on him, how present he was, drawing Minho in. It might not have been addictive but it was obsession. Even if they’d been up to it, he wouldn’t have felt confident enough yet that he’d healed enough to kneel in the shower and make Chan hold on for dear life. But he felt the twitches of interest as he theorized how it would be. How Chan’s voice might fill the shower stall, fill the bathroom. Moans, demands, it didn’t matter. And fill Minho up too, not just with satisfaction. He already knew what Chan looked like when the tension in him gave with the relief of orgasm. Pretty relaxation, utter contentment as he panted, sighed. He just needed to know if the last time had been a fluke, or the time before that. Chan laughed against Minho’s cheek at Minho’s faux irritation when Chan accidentally tickled him. But it still delighted him at the way Chan’s hands gripped at his waist, held him close, breathed with him. He could almost hear it, that empty, quiet space where Chan might have told Minho he loved him. Caught in his throat, maybe, caught where he might worry if it was too much, too soon. When he already had Minho there with him. But even in the silence, Minho felt it. The curl of Chan’s arm around him, the easy way his head rested against Minho’s. The way their laughter filled up the space as Chan had to get more soap on his hand to help get the lube off Minho’s thighs. Clean, they fixed the bed, and instead of falling into it, Minho led Chan back downstairs. Sure, they’d had their meal, and maybe he’d been the main attraction, but he was hungry for dessert. They ate cheesecake at least partly dressed on the couch, making Chan almost fall off it at one point as he laughed himself almost to the point of tears at Minho’s recounting of his shopping trips. “They tried to tell me I needed the purple pants, too, which would’ve looked like the weirdest looking silk pajamas,” Minho said, the hand holding his fork partly against his mouth as he chortled through the memory. He had to breathe so carefully so he could manage to swallow the rest of his cheesecake and not inhale it. “What would you wear with them? You couldn’t wear the shirt at the same time?” Chan wondered. “I mean. That would be a statement, wouldn’t it? I could have bought some for you.” “There goes Chan in his purple silk pants herding the cows, yeah. I can see it now.” “Wind in your hair,” Minho said. “Though, they probably wouldn’t stand up to barbed wire very well. Could be a feature, though. Shredded pants. Lots of leg on display.” Chan snorted. “Only a feature to you. You can see them any time you want, though.” Chan waggled his bare knee in emphasis. Yeah, there was that. And then? Nothing changed. The condoms were tucked away neatly for the next time they were needed. Chan rested on the bed with just as much luxury as he ever did when Minho emerged from brushing his teeth. Maybe there was a little amusement in Chan’s eyes, some knowledge that only the two of them shared. There was some wrestling when Minho got into the bed, maybe because shortly after the light got turned out, his cold feet had found Chan’s leg. Chan was an absolutely savage fighter, getting Minho tightly cuddled “This is how you subdue the cows, isn’t it?” Minho asked, and Chan laughed. Who had won in the end, anyway? His feet got warmed anyway as they slowly relaxed together. Really a pity. Chan inhaled, like he was about to say something, and then slowly exhaled. Minho’s eyes opened in the dark, waiting. “Sleep well,” Chan said. “You, too,” he said. He could feel the unsaid words in the silence, as Chan fell asleep still holding him. *** Instead of heading straight out to work the next morning, Chan laid right back down beside him. Chan kissed him lavishly and then touched his face, examining him like he was really making sure it was really Minho and that he was back. Yes, it was really him, and Chan kissed him again, sighing. “How long can you stay this time?” “How long do you want me to?” Minho asked. Chan was quiet a moment, and still, before he spoke. “I know you have a life back there, too, so I shouldn’t be selfish when you’re already spending time here. But selfishly? I’d like this to be your home, too.” Minho was equally still as he blinked, as his breath caught, eyes on Chan’s. Home. Not staying as a guest, but a resident. It followed Minho’s thoughts from the night before, from seeing his belongings in Chan’s room, but it was different hearing the words. The paperwork was already done, relieving Minho of his stake in the property as Chan bought him out. Chan could have booted him without as much as a second thought, though it might’ve stiffened their relationship as business partners. Minho would do okay, financially. He’d have part of an income from Chan buying the property, one from doing the books for the business. And if that wasn’t enough, he figured he could pick something else up. His home. That Chan’s room would be his, too. That Chan’s bed would be Minho’s also. It seemed a wild thing to contemplate when one of Chan’s legs was basically trapped between his and they were close enough to examine each other’s pores. Maybe Chan wouldn’t want him sleeping with him every night. Maybe Minho wouldn’t want to. They could iron all that out. “Rent?” Minho asked, but Chan shook his head and declined that one. “If I’m paying you for the property, and you’re paying me rent, we’re going to end up cancelling each other out.” Well. They could negotiate on that one. “But I can pitch in for groceries.” “Sure,” Chan said, graciously. Since he was going to be using that resource more at least. “As long as I have free run of the kitchen.” “Sold. I’ll even put a sign up. Minho’s kitchen,” Chan said. “Minho’s cow. Minho’s kitchen. I’m getting really rich over here.” “Minho’s man,” Chan said. “And your side of the bed, too.” He maybe liked that one best. And from the delighted way that Chan said it, the almost restrained waggle, he thought Chan did, too. “My lease is up in a few months. We’ll see how you feel by then.” “Yeah, we’ll see,” Chan agreed cheerily, and after kissing him again, getting up to go take care of the cows. He didn’t get the feeling that Chan thought his mind was going to change. At that moment, it definitely didn’t seem like it. That night after dinner they ended up sitting on the porch swing, swaddled in a blanket. Or, maybe more like kissing on the porch swing. There wasn’t much out at that time of night to be scandalized by them, but at that particular moment with Chan’s hand in his hair and Minho’s stealing into Chan’s shorts, he’d have been hard pressed to care. They did make it back inside though. Then after, way after, Chan had kissed him out of his pajamas, he found that Chan’s back was equally as nice to rest against as it was to look at. And Minho, for the second night in a row, had no worries about what he would wake to. *** Something got Minho up with Chan the next morning. He put on one of Chan’s sweaters against the unexpected morning chill, and Jeongin greeted him when Minho got to the kitchen. He poured himself some of the coffee Jeongin had made, and poked around in the fridge. “You just having cereal? I could make eggs.” “I could eat eggs,” Jeongin said. “And toast?” Something easy, but something that sounded good. “Let’s do that, then.” If that wasn’t Chan’s desire, he’d make Chan something else. “You know, if you ever don’t want me in here in the morning, just let me know,” Jeongin said. Had it not been hard to see how things were? Was it the marks on Chan’s neck that had given it away? Chan’s goofy grin at dinner the night before? Or just plain common sense. Who knew. Maybe they talked about it when out with the cows, though he could well imagine Jeongin starting to yell rather than hear whatever Chan had to say, sappy, dirty, or otherwise. “Don’t worry about it,” Minho said. “We can control ourselves through breakfast.” “Let me know if that changes,” Jeongin said. They fist bumped in agreement, and Minho had the eggs in the pan by the time Chan wandered down. “There you are,” Chan said, giving him a kiss. “Gave me a start to not see you in bed. I like knowing you’re there.” The last bit was said for Minho’s ears only, but he could see Jeongin’s face beginning to transform. “Good, me too. Go put toast on before you put Jeongin off his breakfast,” Minho said. Chan giggled, and obediently turned to do so. Minho mouthed at Jeongin while pointing at Chan with his thumb, “His fault.” Jeongin still didn’t seem convinced. Minho really had no idea why. Jeongin opted to make a sandwich out of his eggs and toast, and Minho and Chan had theirs with forks instead. The sun was starting to peek through looming clouds, but it didn’t seem like it was going to last. “It’s going to rain this afternoon for sure,” Jeongin complained, leaning over the sink to stare at the sky. “Hopefully the vet is here and gone by then.” “Good luck,” Minho said, his eyebrows raising as Chan grinned at him and snagged the last piece of toast. Minho tucked a snack bar into Jeongin’s shirt pocket and patted him by, and then tucked another into Chan’s pocket. “See you after, then. I’ll put something together to eat for lunch.” “Good, thank you,” Chan said, kissing him and making for the mud room door. “Chan?” Chan turned back toward him immediately. “Hmm?” “I love you.” Chan, with the piece of toast halfway to his mouth, began to say, “I lo—“ A reflexive affirmation, like he had so much love inside of him that he didn’t even have to think twice. Like a millionaire handing out large bills that were like pocket change to him. Minho’s instinct was to turn away from it as his face turned red, not look once the words had left him. But when he’d looked away, he also couldn’t help looking back to see Chan’s face as what Minho had said, and not just the immediate response to it, clearly settled on Chan. “I love you, too,” Chan said, his voice a little strange. Minho met his eyes, and nodded, humming as he turned back to the sink. He was not particularly surprised when he was enfolded by Chan in as many seconds as it took for Chan to get to him. Chan didn’t say anything else, maybe didn’t need to, just pressing a kiss to Minho’s neck and squeezing him. The sigh against him wasn’t frustrated, but a happy one, and somehow that was what made Minho grin at the empty juice container he’d been rinsing. “Are we going?” Jeongin said, sticking his head back in warily. “Minho loves me,” Chan announced, like he was reporting on the weather, still clinging against Minho’s back. Jeongin let out a long-suffering sound. “I know! Everyone knows. The cows know. Are we going?” Chan pressed another kiss to Minho’s neck, patting at him. “Yes, let’s get to it.” “I’ll be here when you’re ready for lunch,” Minho told him. “I’ll be here in case you want me for lunch,” Chan said, with a wink before he disappeared. It made him groan. It was terrible. It was somehow, stupidly, wonderful. It was absolutely love. ***

•°³⁹°• Might Seduce Your Dad Type ─✵──────── The bright rays of the summer sun filtered through Taehyung's thin eyelids, making him wake up from his land of dreams. The whole room was illuminated with an orangish glow with the warm rays of the late morning sun; rays of brightness reflecting onto several objects in the room, which decorated its otherwise simplicity. There was a warmth surrounding Taehyung's body. It took him a while to realize with his sleepy confusion, the reason he felt so warm. Jeongguk's strong arm was wrapped around Taehyung, his back pressed against Jeongguk's chest. Taehyung smiled to himself. He doesn't remember Jeongguk ever sleeping next to him like this. He had never woken up to Jeongguk. Jeongguk always fucked him and left before Taehyung woke up. To have Jeongguk here, now, felt like he was in utopia; a place he never thought possible to be alive. And he couldn't help but think he has Jeongguk all for himself now. Taehyung bubbled with happiness at the mere thought. He was glad Jeongbguk decided to stay the night after what had happened to him the previous day. Taehyung could say Jeongguk hadn't gotten proper sleep in days from the way he passed out on his bed the previous day. It had been nighttime when he finally woke up and they ordered a pizza. Then Jeongguk fell asleep again after changing into a pair of sweats belonging to Taehyung. Taehyung had been scared of what Mrs. Hooper might say about Jeongguk staying over. But after explaining how his "friend" had gone through heartbreak and wasn't in a good state to go back to his own home, she agreed to let him stay. And now, as Taehyung laid in bed, Jeongguk embracing him, smiling to himself like a fool, he felt wholesome. Curious to see Jeongguk's face, he turned around in his embrace slowly, trying not to wake up the older man. Taehyung was met with Jeongguk, fast asleep, small snores escaping his pouty lips. His perfectly sculptured facial features were lulled with sleep and he looked peaceful. His long lashes kissed the apples of his cheeks, which were covered with an adorable blush. Soft breaths that escaped his bunny-like nose were audible and Taehyung could only coo at the cuteness of the older man. Jeongguk's other hand, which wasn't embracing Taehyung, was coiled into a fist against Taehyung's chest and the younger of the two found it so adorable. His eyelids momentarily covered his dark orbs that fit myriad galaxies inside them. Jeongguk was mesmerizingly pretty. Taehyung's heart leaped in his chest as he observed his lover's beauty, happiness, and love filling his chest. Taehyung couldn't help himself as he placed a soft kiss on top of Jeongguk's bunny nose. He looked so much younger in his sleep. Jeongguk shifted a little in his sleep but soon stilled, soft snores starting to escape his pinkish lips. The sunlight shone on him and his brown locks gleamed. The tan of his complexion glowed gold and celestial. His naked skin that the sheets had failed to cover shone gold and he looked absolutely empyrean, beyond any beauty Taehyung had come to witness on the face of this world. Taehyung couldn't believe he had the liberty of having this man so close to him. He couldn't believe that a man so perfect, not only by looks but also at heart; a man so passionate, strong, and selfless had fallen in love with someone like Taehyung. And that the very man wants to be with Taehyung. He felt like he wasn't worthy of all these good things happening to him. Not when he spent years feeding on the excitement of ruining other people's families. "You know it's rude to stare" a voice made Taehyung snap out of his thoughts. Jeongguk's morning voice was deeper than usual. A shiver ran through Taehyung's spine when it fell upon his ears. Jeongguk had his eyes open, lips curved into a smile as he stared right back at Taehyung. "I was just admiring your beauty" Taehyung replied. "You're rather pretty. Never realized it before" Jeongguk's lips stretched to reveal his adorable bunny-like teeth. Taehyung knew Jeongguk liked it when he was sassy. "I should've woken up earlier, then" "For what?" "So I could've admired your beauty," Jeongguk said, a smirk playing at his lips. Taehyung tsked. Jeongguk reached to touch Taehyung's round cheek, thumb tracing over the apple of his cheek. "Seriously though. You're the prettiest boy out there" Taehyung let out a giggle. Jeongguk's smile grew wider. "Adorable" "Shut up" Taehyung whined. "Make me" Taehyung's smile faded. His thoughts momentarily paused as he stared into Jeongguk's beautiful doe eyes. Then his gaze shifted onto Jeongguk's lips. He leaned in and placed his soft lips on top of Jeongguk's. Taehyung's eyes fluttered close as Jeongguk leaned in, tilting his head slightly to kiss the younger back. Jeongguk cupped Taehyung's neck, pressing his lips against Taehyung. He licked Taehyung's bottom lip and the smaller boy parted his lips in an instant. In moments, Jeongguk was on top of Taehyung, pushing his tongue inside the blond's mouth as they sloppily kissed. Taehyung caressed Jeongguk's bare back, fingers ghosting over the waistband of his sweats. Jeongguk pressed his whole body against Taehyung's and a gasp escaped the younger boy, the kiss breaking, as he felt something hard pressing against his thigh. Morning wood? Jeongguk prepped kisses along Taehyung's jaw, trailed to his lips again, and planted a kiss atop his rosy lips that glistened with saliva. Jeongguk looked into Taehyung's eyes once and their gazes locked. Until Jeongguk diverted his gaze back to the younger's lips. Jeongguk took Taehyung's bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it, making Taehyung's eyes widen, arousal spreading through his body in waves. "Jeongguk" Taehyung let out the moment the older man let go of his bottom lip. Jeongguk captured Taehyung's lips in another kiss, moaning "Baby" into the younger's mouth as they kissed. Taehyung grazed his fingertips over Jeongguk's back muscles, loving the way they flexed and Goosebumps formed under his touch. His hand stopped right at the waistband of his sweats and he slipped his fingers inside, hoping to give Jeongguk's ass a firm squeeze. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was already squeezing Taehyung's ass, pushing the younger's hips upwards with his hand to meet his own hips. Taehyung could feel his bulge... no ...rock hard cock against his upper thigh and Taehyung let out a moan as a series of unholy thoughts crossed his mind. Taehyung was about to feel Jeongguk up when- "Taehyung!" Jeongguk pushed himself off of Taehyung, almost falling off the bed and Taehyung sat up on the bed at the speed of lightning. It only then did he realize that the door was locked. "Taehyung? Are you awake?" Mrs. Hooper called from the other side of the door. " Taehyung let out a sigh of relief and tried to calm down his erratic heartbeat. "Yes, Mrs. Hooper! I just woke up" Taehyung hopped off the bed, putting on a t-shirt, and opened the door to see the old lady. She smiled as she saw him. "Good morning Mrs. Hooper" Taehyung smiled. "It's almost midday, my child," She said. "I'm making rice for us. Will your friend stay for lunch?" "Oh no, Mrs. Hooper. No need to bother. We can grab something when we go out" "Nonsense! I'm sure I can feed another mouth for a day! Besides, you didn't have breakfast. Did you know skipping breakfast is dangerous? Especially for youngsters like you! You'll get all sorts of illnesses when you're older because you skip breakfast!" Taehyung couldn't help but grin. Something he had found out in the few days he had stayed in the house was that Mrs. Hooper was so persistent on feeding Taehyung. It reminded him of his own grandmother. "Thank you, Mrs. Hooper! I'll come downstairs to help you!" She waved him off and started making her way towards the staircase. Taehyung watched her leave with a smile on his face and turned to Jeongguk, closing the door behind him. Jeongguk sat on the bed, cross-legged. He smiled when he saw Taehyung. "She sounds nice," Jeongguk said. "She is. So caring" "Didn't Jieun recommend you this place?" "Yeah" Jeongguk flashed a tight-lipped smile at Taehyung. "What are you going to do now?" Taehyung said, sitting down next to Jeongguk. Jeongguk shrugged. "Well, I can't stay in here forever. I'll have to go back home" "Yeah but I mean...about Jieun...?" "I'm going to divorce her" Taehyung's eyes widened. "Are you sure? Isn't she pregnant?" "I don't think it's mine. She probably cheated on me. I don't even care. Even if it is mine, the last thing I want is another kid. I can pay for child support or whatever" Taehyung took Jeongguk's hand in his. "What about Aria?" "I don't know about her" "You know...I understand that it's going to be hard on her to understand that you and Jieun's relationship is so fucked up because to anyone looking from the outside, you two look like the perfect couple" "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. We were the happily married perfect parents. Aria probably thinks me and Jieun were so in love because we never even fought" "Yes but she's sixteen, Jeongguk. She's old enough to understand this situation. Even if you don't tell her about how you're not her biological father, she'll be able to manage the fact that you and Jieun weren't actually happy. She would understand why you did what you did. She's mature. Believe me" Jeongguk squeezed Taehyung's hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles. He smiled. "Yeah. She's strong" "Now that I think of it, she's really is nothing like you," Taehyung said. "Really?" "Yeah. I thought you guys looked nothing alike and also from behavior, she doesn't have your good qualities" Jeongguk chuckled. "Yeah, she's a lot like Jieun. Stubborn and all" Taehyung wondered if Jieun would also force herself on Jeongguk if he said no to her. Now that he thinks about it, what Jieun did to Jeongguk isn't too different from Aria trying to rape Taehyung. "Tae?" Taehyung looked up to meet Jeongguk's eyes. He had his eyes narrowed, observing Taehyung's face. "What's wrong?" "W-what? Nothing. Why?" Jeongguk furrowed his eyebrows together, not buying Taehyung's lie. "You were thinking about something. You looked troubled. Tell me what it is" "Nothing, Gguk. It's nothing" Taehyung didn't plan to tell Jeongguk that his daughter tried to rape him "You're lying. You didn't see the way you looked when you were lost on the thought" Taehyung stayed silent. He couldn't bear to meet Jeongguk's eyes. "Taehyung, I love you. You know I would never judge you. You can tell me anything" Jeongguk said, hand reaching up to touch Taehyung's cheek. Taehyung sighed. He leaned into Jeongguk's touch and looked into his eyes. "Fine" He whispered. "But don't be mad" "I won't" Maybe this was the best time to tell him... "That day when you and Jieun went on a date..." Taehyung said. "Aria kind of wanted to have sex with me" "Oh god," Jeongguk looked horrified. "And she kinda forced herself on me. She said she'll tell Jieun that I tried to sleep with her and all if I don't fuck her. But! It wasn't that bad. I didn't sleep with her or anything. She just ground on my dick for like two minutes and then I may have moaned your name and she was horrified and she ran back to her room..." "Woah hold up," Jeongguk said, bewildered. "She wanted you to fuck her. And you said no. but she forced herself on you and you moaned my name?!" "Yeah well..." "What the fuck? How could she...I never thought" Jeongguk's face showed absolute shock. "I shouldn't have left her with you. I should've known she'd do something like that after all she's done to get you to be her boyfriend" "Yeah well no one would assume their daughter would do something like that" "Oh my god," Jeongguk let out. "She knew that something was going on between us because of that?" "No! I told her that I was just having a crush on you and she believed me" "Oh okay. But like what...I really thought I did a good job raising her. She's old enough to understand what consent is..." "It's in the past. It's wrong but I'm okay. Don't think about it" "Wait till I see her..." Taehyung fumbled with his fingers. "You should've told me the moment this happened. What she did was unforgivable. How dare she..." Jeongguk said. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around Taehyung. The younger instantly returned the embrace. "I'm sorry" "It's no big deal Gguk. She barely did anything" "She could've. She threatened you" "I'm okay now," Taehyung said. "I got you" Jeongguk cupped his cheeks. "Yeah. I'm not going to leave you again. I'm never going to tell you to get out of my life" Taehyung smiled. He was close to tearing up. "I'm going to divorce Jieun so we can be together. Only if you want to, of course..." Taehyung smiled. "Of course, I want to! You're the first person I fell in love with. I don't want to leave you. I want to be with you. You have no idea how much I missed you when you were gone" Jeongguk's eyes shone, as they had filled with tears. "Gosh, I love you so much" the stars in his eyes seemed to glow even more as they swirled in galaxies embedded in his eyes. Taehyung wanted nothing more than to see and admire those starry eyes for the rest of his life. Jeongguk kissed Taehyung. And yet again, the moment their lips met, Taehyung's whole body and mind erupted with butterflies. He was at bliss; the top of the world. Jeongguk's warm embrace felt like the safest place on earth. He could never find a person who would love him like Jeongguk. He could never find another home in any other person. Jeongguk was his only home. Taehyung threaded his fingers between Jeongguk's curls as he felt the older lowering him to the mattress, kissing him harder and more passionately. He could still feel Jeongguk's boner against his thigh. Apparently, not even a grandma interrupting their session could make that boner disappear. Jeongguk ground his cock onto Taehyung's thigh, making them break the kiss and Taehyung gasped as arousal flooded through his body yet again. Jeongguk started to kiss down Taehyung's neck and his sex-deprived dick was already hard. But- "Jeongguk we can't have sex in here!" Taehyung whisper-yelled. Jeongguk looked up from Taehyung's neck, looking quizzical. "Why the hell not?" "Because this is her house! We can't just fuck! It's not right!" "She won't know!" "Jeongguk!" "Fine" Jeongguk groaned. "I missed you so much" "So did I," Taehyung said, planting one last kiss onto Jeongguk's lips. He got up from the bed and walked to the closet. "I need to help her with cooking," He said. "Get dressed" "Fine" Jeongguk pouted. "Do you need clothes?" "No, I'll just wear the ones from yesterday. Yours aren't going to fit" "Okay," Taehyung said and picked an outfit for himself. "Go take a bath" Jeongguk huffed and sat up from the bed. "Do you have an extra toothbrush?" Lunch with Mrs. Hooper and Jeongguk wasn't as awkward as Taehyung thought it would be. In fact, it wasn't awkward at all. Jeongguk knew how to make conversation. Apparently, Jeongguk's hobby of gardening seemed to excite Mrs. Hooper a lot. She, herself loved gardening. So Taehyung gulped down his rice as the other two engaged themselves in a deep conversation about plants. Which Taehyung found to be boring. Jeongguk didn't mention that he was married and Taehyung was glad that Mrs. Hooper didn't know Jieun personally. Or things would've been seriously awkward. Mrs. Hooper, fortunately, didn't ask any personal questions. When they were done, Taehyung decided to go to Jimin's place, since he doesn't have anything to do by himself anyway. Jeongguk said he could drop him off and he agreed. Taehyung sat in the passenger seat of Jeongguk's car as the older man started the engine. "So you're just going to be at your house?" Taehyung asked. "No, I need to go to the hospital..." Jeongguk said. "Do you want to come?" "I don't think I should" "Yeah..." Jeongguk started reversing the car to the driveway. "I have some clothes left in that room...at your house. Can I pick them up and go to Jimin's place? You can go straight to the hospital after dropping me off" Jeongguk had his eyes on the road ahead. "Yeah sure" "Will Jieun be home?" "Nah," Jeongguk said. "She's in the hospital. Had dropped like a hundred messages yesterday since I didn't pick up her calls. She had texted me that she was in the hospital" Taehyung nodded. They rode in comfortable silence, with a conversation or two and soft laughter escaping them both from time to time as they enjoyed each other's presence. They reached Jeongguk's house by around two in the afternoon. He followed Jeongguk inside the house, only to find it the same as he had remembered. Even though many things had actually changed around them, everything inside the house looked exactly the same. "I'll be upstairs," Jeongguk said and headed up the stairs. "Okay" Taehyung started to make his way towards his room. He found the door unlocked and open. He hesitantly pushed the door ajar. He let out a gasp when he saw the inside of the room he had once stayed in. Everything was a mess. The sheets of the bed were on the floor. His clothes, which he had left behind, were scattered all over the place. There were papers torn all over the floor. Mouth agape, he stepped into the room. This has to be Jieun's doing. Who else would scatter Taehyung's belongings all over the place? Taehyung picked up a larger piece of paper that was on the floor. His heart sank as he realized what the papers were. It was Jeongguk's sketchbook. All the papers, the pages that once had many portraits of Taehyung were ripped into shreds and pieces, scattered all over the place. He put his hand over his mouth, horrified and heart breaking upon seeing the destruction. Taehyung had left it when he left Jeongguk. It was in his possession all this time. He was keeping it secure with him for Jeongguk. It was their thing. The sketches meant a lot for not only Jeongguk but also for Taehyung. Jeongguk had loved sketching Taehyung. Why would anyone... He was scanning the mess when he spotted the cover of the book in the corner of the room. He walked over and picked it up. All the pages were torn off. All the pages, except one. His last sketch. The one he drew Taehyung naked with the necklace he bought him. Taehyung held the remaining work of art close to his chest and let out a sigh. He then put it in his backpack and picked up all the clothes that were scattered everywhere. His hands were quick, hurried. Tears were on the verge of falling. After he was done, he could no longer stay in that room. He soon scurried out and shut the door behind him. He went to the living room. He dropped the bag near the couch. "Jeongguk?" He called. No answer. He took a few steps towards the stairs. "Jeongguk?" Still no answer. Taehyung hesitantly made his way upstairs. He had never been up here. When he reached the top of the stairs he looked to his right, where he saw a couple of closed doors. To his left were two doors. One, at the end of the hallway, was open. He slowly walked towards it. Upon reaching it, he peeked inside. To his relief, he saw Jeongguk standing by a bed. He had his back facing Taehyung. He held something in his hand. "Jeongguk?" Jeongguk turned. There were tears in his eyes. "Hey," He said. "What's wrong?" Taehyung asked, walking towards him. Jeongguk gave him a tight-lipped smile and showed him what he held in his hand. It was a photo frame. Of him, Jieun and Aria. Aria looked like two or three years old and Jeongguk looked as if he had just graduated high school. "Oh" "I want to throw this in the trash," Jeongguk said. "I loved her so much" "I know," Taehyung said. He took the photo from Jeongguk's hand and placed it on the bedside table, face down. "You were a good father" Jeongguk smiled at Taehyung. "From the way she had turned out, I doubt that now" "Well, she got all the shitty qualities from her birth parents. She got the good stuff because you raised her" Jeongguk let out a chuckle. Taehyung smiled and cupped his face. He wiped off the tears that had made their way down his cheeks. "It doesn't matter. You got me. I love you" Taehyung said. "Of course" Jeongguk smiled. He put his hands on Taehyung's waist and pulled him closer. “I love you too” Taehyung's face was inches away from Jeongguk's and Taehyung couldn't help it when he closed the distance between them. Jeongguk's lips were liquid ecstasy. They always had been. And as Jeongguk kissed Taehyung like he missed him, like Taehyung was actually a necessity in his life, Taehyung couldn't help but kiss him back with the same intensity, pouring all his love and want for Jeongguk. Jeongguk took a step towards Taehyung, making him stumble backward, only to fall atop a soft surface. Jeongguk and Jieun's bed. Jeongguk climbed on top of him. He flashed Taehyung a quick smile before leaning down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Taehyung opened his mouth as Jeongguk licked his bottom lip, asking for entrance. Jeongguk's tongue explored his mouth, and their bodies were pressed together, only the thin material of their clothes preventing their naked skin from meeting. They lusted after each other's lips, every second of their intimate encounter bringing back old memories. Their longing for each other, the deprivation of touch and love of each other only fuelling their kisses and touches, making every touch and caress wilder, hurried. Soon, Jeongguk had pulled off Taehyung's shirt over his head, and wasting no time, he started pressing kisses down his jaw and neck. He bit down on his collarbone, sucking red spots on his golden canvas. "Take this off," Taehyung said, voice sharp as he tugged at Jeongguk's shirt. Jeongguk smirked and let Taehyung rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere in the process. Jeongguk didn't have much time to process the destruction, as Taehyung started sucking hickeys onto his skin. "You always mark me up. I want to mark you up this time" Taehyung said, in between nibbles. Jeongguk smirked, fingers running through Taehyung's golden locks. "Want them to know you belong to me" Taehyung rasped. "I am yours" Jeongguk said. Taehyung kept kissing and sucking all over Jeongguk's chest, leaving red spots all over. Taehyung unbuckled Jeongguk's belt and undid the button of his jeans. Jeongguk watched as Taehyung pulled his pants down, along with his boxers. Jeongguk's rock-hard erection sprang free. Taehyung's mouth watered at the sight. His pink tip was wet and his cock was begging to be sucked. Who was Taehyung to refuse? Taehyung gave Jeongguk's rosy tip a kitten lick, making Jeongguk hiss. Taehyung, satisfied with the older man's reaction, took his whole tip in his mouth, sucking it. Jeongguk moaned. "Fuck! Don't tease, baby" Taehyunng took more and more of him in his mouth until his tip was touching the back of Taehyung's throat. He started bobbing his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks, making Jeongguk curse and moan. Taehyung pulled off Jeongguk after a few moments, much to Jeongguk's confusion. "Fuck my mouth," Taehyung said, looking up at Jeongguk. "Fuck, baby" Jeongguk groaned. Taehyung took him in his mouth again. This time, Jeongguk held him from the back of his head, fingers gripping his blond locks to keep his head in place. Jeongguk started thrusting into Taehyung's mouth. "Oh fuck" Jeongguk let out as he slowly built up the pace, going deeper with every thrust. Taehyung moaned around his cock, the vibrations making Jeongguk's cock twitch inside Taehyung's mouth. Tears sprang to his eyes as Jeongguk pushed in deeper, cock in his throat. Taehyung was gagging. Tears started cascading down his cheeks but Jeongguk kept fucking his throat, chasing his euphoria. Jeongguk finally came down Taehyung's throat and he pulled out, making Taehyung fall back on the bed, clutching his abused throat. Jeongguk's cum was still in his mouth, the hot load salty in his mouth. Taehyung smirked, looking at Jeongguk. And Jeongguk didn't see it coming. Taehyung kissed Jeongguk, wrapping his arms around him as they both fell on the bed, the younger boy on top of Jeongguk. Jeongguk happily kissed back. Taehyung, being the freaky little bitch he was, opened his mouth, spitting the mixture of semen and spit into Jeongguk's mouth. Jeongguk's eyes widened, definitely not expecting Taehyung to do that. Taehyung pulled away to see Jeongguk's priceless reaction, grinning to himself in satisfaction. Jeongguk gulped down the mixture of his cum and Taehyung's spit. "You little bitch" Jeongguk said. "Do you like the way you taste, professor?" "You whore" Jeongguk growled and flipped them over, so Jeongguk was on top of Taehyung. He pushed Taehyung back into the sheets Jeongguk attached his lips onto Taehyung's erect nipples. Taehyung let out a moan, back arching as Jeongguk bit down on his rosy bud. Jeongguk took his time to torture Taehyung's nipples before he moved south, trailing a lane of kisses down his soft tummy onto the waistband of his pants. Jeongguk undid the button and zipper, hooking his fingers on the waistband. He eyed Taehyung, who looked like a wreck already. Without much waiting, he yanked the pants off. Jeongguk was met with Taehyung's underwear. A big bulge was evident even through the black material. "So hard for me" Jeongguk rasped. He traced his finger over the place where a wet patch had formed. "So needy, hmm?" "Fuck" Taehyung cursed. "Are you going to fuck me or just keep talking?" Jeongguk raised an eyebrow at him. "Brat" he slapped Taehyung's thigh. "Fuck me already" Taehyung whined. "Call me sir" Taehyung's eyes widened. "Fuck" Taehyung said, feeling more turned on than ever. "Please fuck me, sir" Jeongguk smirked. "As you wish, baby" Jeongguk yanked Taehyung's underwear off, leaving him naked on the bed. "Is that new?" Taehyung asked Jeongguk as he uncapped the bottle of lube. "Yeah. Never used it. Jieun doesn't really need it" Jeongguk winked. "Ew! Gross! You killed the mood" Jeongguk laughed and slapped Taehyung's thigh. He leaned down to kiss him, tongues colliding and teeth crashing against one another as they lusted after each other's lips. Taehyung could taste the saltiness inside Jeongguk's mouth. Taehyung loved that way more than he should. Jeongguk pinched the younger's waist, making Taehyung giggle into the kiss. Jeongguk couldn't help but grin, cooing at the smaller boy's adorableness. "Adorable" Jeongguk whispered against Taehyung's lips. Taehyung smiled at him, eyes gleaming. "The prettiest" Jeongguk mused. Taehyung rolled his eyes. But his cheeks were dusted scarlet, flustered from all the praising. "Are you going to fuck me or keep sweet talking to me?" Taehyung said. Jeongguk squeezed Taehyung's plush ass. "So demanding" Jeongguk sat up on the bed and spread open Taehyung's legs. His pretty little hole was in full display. The exposure made Taehyung's cheeks heat up uncontrollably. Especially from the way Jeongguk eyed him, like a beast eyeing its prey; ready to devour him. Flames of hunger and lust burned in his eyes. Jeongguk squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, spreading them over three fingers. He eyed Taehyung once before pressing a lubed finger against his rim. The coldness of his finger made Taehyung jump. Jeongguk circled his rim before pulling it in. the stretch wasn't painful. He was used to it. Jeongguk thrust his finger in and out of his hole before adding another one. Taehyung bit down on his bottom lip, the pain from the stretch starting to spread over his bottom half. He hadn't been fucked in almost a week. He was surely tight. Jeongguk paid no mind to Taehyung's discomfort, knowing it's going to ease up sooner, rather than later. He fucked Taehyung with two fingers, scissoring him, stretching him open. Jeongguk soon added another finger and Taehyung jumped a little, a sigh escaping him as the pain heightened. Jeongguk stretched him out for a few moments before digging his fingers deeper inside Taehyung. The moment Jeongguk dragged his fingers along Taehyung's velvety walls, the younger boy let out a mewl as an electrifying sensation took over his body. Jeongguk smirked, having finally found his prostate. Jeongguk continued to finger fuck the poor boy who whined and shook under him. After he tortured Taehyung for a satisfactory amount of time, Jeongguk dragged his fingers out of his hole, leaving Taehyung tremble and whine at the feeling of loss fullness inside him. Pre-cum dripped from his cock. Arousal spread through his body in waves as he found himself whining. "Sir!" Taehyung let out. "Fuck me already" "Fuck, baby" Jeongguk groaned. "Hold on" "Please, sir! Be quick!" "Patience" Jeongguk snapped. "Do we need a condom?" "No!" Taehyung said. "Fuck me raw" "Fuck okay" "Like it when you fuck me raw" "Me too, baby" Jeongguk said, his own patience wearing thin as he hurriedly lubed up his cock. Jeongguk hovered over Taehyung again, one hand hoisting himself up as his lower half rested between the younger boy's thighs. Jeongguk quickly aligned himself with Taehyung's wet hole and pushed in. The moment Jeongguk's cock started filling him up, Taehyung threw his head back, spine arching as he tried to adjust to his size. No matter how many times he had Jeongguk inside him, he could never adjust to his massive cock. Jeongguk, sensing Taehyung's discomfort, captured his lips in a lustful kiss, to distract him, knocking the air out of his lungs in the process. Jeongguk kept pushing in until he completely bottomed out. Jeongguk prepped kisses along Taehyung's jaw and collarbones, letting him adjust until- "Move" Jeongguk started moving. He started with slow thrusts, slowly building up the pace until he found himself a steady rythem. Taehyung moaned out, the pain of the stretch vanishing as Jeongguk's cock slid over his prostate with every push and drag. The pleasure spread through his body like wildfire, numbing every sense and making his whole body quiver. Jeongguk snapped his hips, fucking in and out of Taehyung at an animalistic pace, low groans escaping him. "Fucking tight" Jeongguk groaned. "So good" Taehyung moaned in response. He dragged in fingernails along Jeongguk's muscular back, finding the way they flexed as he moved his body extremely satisfying. He threw his head back, profanities escaping him with each thrust. The pleasure was too much to contain. "Fuck" Taehyung let out. "I m-missed this s-s-so f-fucking much oh !" "M-Me too baby" Jeongguk buried his head in the crook of Taehyung's neck as he ruthlessly slammed his cock into the smaller boy. "Sir!" Taehyung let out, tears springing into his eyes as Jeongguk continued to ram his cock into Taehyung. Taehyung could feel the fire that had pooled at the bottom of his stomach. He was already so close. Every thrust, a scrap of heaven. Every drag and pull pushed Jungkook further and further away from his equilibrium, into a void of ecstasy. "Fuck I'm close" Jeongguk's pace faltered for a split second when he pushed Taehyung's legs over his shoulders to fuck him at a between angle. Taehyung could feel Jeongguk's cock so deep inside him, almost in his intestines. The sounds of squelching were sick and sinful. Flames of lust burned through his veins, liquid pleasure making him scream out. Jeongguk's sinful chorus of moans and grunts felt heavenly in Taehyung's ears. His groans reverberated through his body, driving him closer and closer to his climax Taehyung moaned out. He was going to cum untouched. Jeongguk held him from his hips, his grip bruising and probably leaving marks, and started to fuck him harder and faster just how Taehyung needed it. Within minutes Taehyung came, electrifying pleasure making everything around him fade into white noise, eyes rolling to the back of his head and toes curling in pleasure. Taehyung collapsed on the bed, body exhausted but Jeongguk thrust into his lifeless body, chasing his own climax. Within minutes, he came inside Taehyung, pumping his hot cum into Taehyung, making whimper weakly. Jeongguk collapsed next to Taehyung. The sound of their heavy breathing filled up the silence of the room. It was Taehyung who spoke first. "So you kept your promise" "Hmm?" "You fucked me in you and your wife's bed at last" Jeongguk smiled. "Yeah. Always wanted to" "Kinky" Taehyung grinned. "I love it" "Another round?" "Fuck no I'm exhausted" "Come on! I'm horny" Jeongguk whined. "I'm fucking sore" Taehyung let out weakly. "Wait a few minutes at least" "Is that a yes?" "Maybe" "Yay!" Taehyung laughed at the older man's cuteness. Jeongguk moved towards Taehyung, wrapping his arms around the younger as they stared into each other's eyes, basking in each other's warmth and love. "I love you" Jeongguk whispered. Taehyung sighed, heart bubbling with happiness. "I love you to the moon and back" "I love you to Saturn and back" "I love you more than the vast space" "That's not fair!" Jeongguk said. Taehyung giggled, seeing Jeongguk pout cutely. Taehyung watched as Jeongguk's eyes twinkle beautifully, the stars embedded in them were bright and mystic. The constellations of his eyes spoke of many possibilities and futures. Their future. Together. Jeongguk planted a kiss atop Taehyung's lips, smiling cutely afterward. Taehyung was about to give him a kiss himself when Jeongguk's phone beeped. Jeongguk's eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitting together as his attention was captured by the sound of a notification. He let out a sigh and reached for his phone that was on the bed. Taehyung watched as Jeongguk checked the message and the blond boy snuggled up to him and head buried in the crook of his chest. "Taehyung" Taehyung looked up at Jeongguk. He wore an unreadable expression. It made Taehyung's heart jump a little from anxiety. Jeongguk then looked at Taehyung. "Aria had woken up"

One Month Later: Dabi didn’t know how he made it back to Hawks’ apartment in one piece. “Off day” isn’t quite in his vocabulary, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be caught off guard. He was doing his best to hold his left arm still, it was most definitely dislocated. He could see the staples on his hands beginning to peel, and he was certain the ones across his chest and back would need replacing.  Dabi had contemplated not going to Hawks’ place. Hawks didn’t need any more stress than he already was going through. But he was closest to his apartment, and he thought they were at least to the point where Hawks wouldn’t want him to die rather than come to him for help.  That is how he found himself making slow progress up the fire escape to a height that made him nauseous to think about, but was perfect for take off. For someone who had wings.  Dabi knew Hawks wasn’t sleeping much, but he hadn’t expected to find him wide awake, lights on, cooking food and drinking what is probably the tail end of an ungodly amount of coffee. He almost stops and watches for a moment, but the fact that he was probably bleeding out takes precedence.  Hawks turns abruptly when he taps on the window. Dabi sees a calm look when he recognizes him, a look that almost immediately turns worried when he sees the way Dabi is attempting to hold himself together. He opens the balcony door a little too quickly, taking Dabi’s balance away from where he had been leaning on it.  “Dabs, what–” He’s cut off by Dabi slumping over, and just barely catches him before they both fall slowly to their knees. “Hey, birdie.” “Dabi, what happened ?” Dabi just shakes his head slowly. “I’m really not good at– at asking for help, but–,” he cut himself off.  Hawks looked up at him for a moment, then nodded, moving to help Dabi up and towards the bathroom. “We have to stop meeting like this,” Dabi mumbled as Hawks helped him sit up on the counter.  Hawks gives him a glance mixed with exasperation and more worry, but doesn’t respond. When he knows Dabi is steady on the counter and not going to fall over, he leaves the room. Dabi’s first thought is that he’s on his own to fix himself up, wouldn’t be any different then normal then. But he quickly discards that thought when Hawks comes back into the room with a bottle of whiskey. He raises his eyebrows in question.  “I don’t have anything for pain,” Hawks explains, pouring some into a cup and holding it out to Dabi.  “Don’t you have–” “I took them all.” Oh.  “I’m used to pain, Birdie, don’t waste–” “I wasn’t asking,” the blond says, taking Dabi’s good hand and wrapping it around the glass. Dabi is grateful that Hawks doesn’t let go, but instead helps him take a few sips before putting it on the counter next to the bottle. Dabi sees his movements stutter for a moment, and Hawks has a strained look on his face as he picks the glass up and downs what is left in one gulp. "Birdie, when did you run out of pain meds?"  Hawks sighs, placing the glass back down. "About a week ago. I've been drinking a little of it whenever the pain gets bad... which is always."  Dabi's eyebrows raised at that, then, "how are you not trashed right now?" He wished he sounded more worried and less surprised. Hawks just smiled a bit, ducking down to get the med kit they had used weeks earlier.  "As it turns out," he said, "an unnaturally high metabolism wasn't a part of my quirk after all." When Hawks said it, Dabi watched his smile disappear, the amusement at Dabi's comment gone in an instant. And Dabi wanted to tell him that he hadn't lost his quirk, that for all he knew, within a year he'd be flying again. But Dabi knows that false hope only makes disappointment sting all the more. He had seen how deep Hawks' scars were, he knew that meta liberation freak had taken his time. He had wanted Hawks' quirk gone. If it had been sloppy or quick, it could have easily destroyed part of Hawks' spine, and killing the hero like that didn't appear to be part of the plan. It hadn't been off the table of course, the one with the knives had seen to that. But taking Hawks' quirk was meant to hurt, it was a power play over a top ten hero; it was to make him feel worthless. It was- "Woah, Dabs, hey, look at me," Hawks' voice shook Dabi out of his thoughts, and he looked down to see steam seeping out of his skin, between staples that were starting to burn red-hot.  "Sorry," Dabi said, taking a few deep breaths and calming down his quirk. He didn't explain what he was thinking, and Hawks didn't ask, so Dabi searched for another subject that may bring the bird's soft smile back. “I have to warn you, I am a bit of a lightweight.” “Just means you’ll feel better sooner.” Hawks said, his expression turning slightly less somber. Dabi just hummed back at him, and he could feel the warmth from the alcohol already spreading through his stomach. He doesn’t deny Hawks when he pours more for him, holding the glass back up. “I hope you’re not too attached to this jacket, hotstuff.” Dabi frowned, “why?”  Hawks took a pair of scissors out of the med kit, “do you really want to move your arm to take your jacket and shirt off?"  Dabi definitely didn’t , but he also didn’t want Hawks to see how messed up he already was underneath his clothes. The mystery and shock value of the scars lends to the villain image of course, but Dabi never shows them more than he has to. Especially not to someone whose company he doesn’t hate. Surely he can wait it out and deal with it later. He just needs help with his arm. Pain tolerance aside, he doesn’t think he’d be able to get it back into place properly.  “No,” Dabi shook his head, “I can do that, I don’t want– I can do that.” Hawks looked down to the blood that spread through the white shirt. It plastered the fabric to Dabi’s chest, outlining multiple staples that were sticking further out than Hawks knew they should be.  “I won’t make you ask, I’ll ask,” Hawks says quietly, leaning down to look into Dabi’s eyes, “will you let me help you? Please?” Dabi blinked once, then twice, “birdie… no one’s ever…it’s really not pretty.” “I’m not expecting pretty, Dabs, I’m expecting wounds no one should have to deal with alone.” After a moment of stillness, Dabi’s good hand moved to the hem of his shirt, which he pulled up just enough for Hawks to know he was signaling for him to cut it. So Hawks does.  He is careful, so careful. It’s the gentleness that is so jarring to Dabi. The number two hero, too fast for his own good, taking his time. When his shirt is cut in the front, Hawks moves to Dabi’s bad arm. Trying not to jostle it too much as he goes, he cuts slowly through the sleeve of the jacket, and the shirt when he gets to it, and carefully pulls the fabric away.  It’s both worse and better than Hawks was expecting. He had always been curious about how far Dabi’s scars went. About just how many staples it took to hold him together. As they had fallen into some kind of precariously ambiguous friendship, his curiosity had become a hope that they didn’t stretch too far. At first he had told himself it was because Dabi was the best possible contact he had with the league, but eventually he had to admit even to himself that he looked forward to their late night meetings. A twinge of disappointment when a meeting had to be canceled turned into twists of nervousness in his stomach whenever Dabi was late for one.  Seeing Dabi now, there was less scarred skin than Hawks had worried there would be, but several staples across his chest were pulled up, some missing altogether. Hawks realized he was staring a little too long, and he could tell that Dabi was holding his breath, resigned to and expecting a remark of disgust. Hawks hoped his face didn’t convey anything like that, but he couldn’t hope to know what Dabi thought his reaction would be.  “Tell me what to do.” Dabi sighed, “shoulder first, I think.” Hawks nodded. “You really should be laying down for this, Dabs.” Dabi shook his head, “it’s fine, honestly I’ll probably get sick if I move much more than I have to. Can I have…” he nods towards the glass of whiskey.  “Yeah,” Hawks helps him take a few sips.  “Alright,” he says when Dabi is done with the glass, “this is going to hurt.” “No shit,” Dabi breathed. “It’ll feel better afterwards, so just– I’m gonna guide you through it.” Dabi nods silently.  “I’ll even take a page from your book,” Hawks smiles, taking Dabi’s hand in one of his, then placing his other hand under his left elbow, “just look at me. I’m gonna lift your arm up, okay?” Dabi stayed completely still except for an extremely tight nod. Hawks makes sure to hold all of the weight off his shoulder as he begins to lift his arm up. “I need you to move your arm as if you’re reaching for between your shoulder blades,” Hawks continues, then, “Dabs, you have to breathe.” Dabi takes in a quick breath, his eyes screwed shut.  “You’re almost done,” Hawks says under his breath, “now, move your arm like you’re reaching to touch your right shoulder.” Dabi does, and it hurts, but a second after he moves, there is a loud pop. Hawks is still helping him hold his arm up, and he places his other hand on Dabi’s chest to hold him steady as he lets out a heavy breath.  “You okay?” Dabi is silent for a second, then his muscles tense as though he is wanting to lower his arm, so Hawks helps him.  “Right as rain, Birdie,” he murmurs, slowly lifting his head to look at Hawks, “that hurt.” “Yeah, it would,” Hawks nodded, “what next?” Over the next couple hours, Dabi guides Hawks through replacing his torn staples. When they get into more familiar territory, Hawks takes over, letting Dabi lean against the mirror while he bandages wounds on his otherwise healthy skin. Dabi doesn’t want to admit to fears. He’s one of the most wanted villains in Japan, maybe the world at the moment. He can’t be afraid of little, stupid things. But because of his broken body, especially because of his broken body, the fear of being a burden on anyone is always humming quietly in the back of his mind. It had been there when he was younger, everytime he burned himself badly with his quirk and it was up to his younger siblings to help him. He tells himself it’s pride. That he doesn’t need help. He’s not weak . What he is is a liar, because it’s not pride. He can admit he’s prideful, in other situations, but in this one?  In this one he’s just thoroughly broken. Unable to accept help from others because he knows he has never done one thing to deserve it.  Hawks’ gentle touches burn, almost more than his quirk. Certainly more than the alcohol melting his limbs, not necessarily dulling the pain, but making it extremely hard to focus on.  So Dabi can focus on other things. Because maybe he is scared and a liar and prideful all at once… He’s also selfish. So he can focus on other…nicer things.   He can focus on how fucking beautiful Hawks is. Not in the way billboards would portray him. Not the pristine, perfect, bachelor hero. No. Hawks walked around like the living embodiment of all of Dabi’s favorite poems, the ones he read when he was younger and still had the energy to do things he enjoyed just for the sake of enjoying them. The poems he would bookmark or screenshot on his phone to read and reread later. Because each time he read them he found something different. Each time he read them he loved something different.  But then, that isn’t the way he looks at Hawks, is it? Because Hawks is beautiful, and Dabi sees something new each time he looks at him. But he doesn’t love something different each time. That’s different.  He loves all of him, everything he learns. He feels whatever dagger Hawks has buried in his chest twist deeper. Closer and closer to his heart. His love for the hero was exponential. Parts were never erased or ignored, only added to faster and faster.  Yet another flaw to add to his list: apathy towards his self-destructive tendencies.  A villain in love with a hero. There was a little voice in Dabi’s head telling him how badly that would end. Even now. Even if Hawks is never able to recover and continue being a hero. Hawks could be an average citizen, or even a villain; it wouldn’t matter. Dabi knew his own story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.  He hears that voice telling him attachments are just going to be more painful. That voice flares up whenever he hasn’t seen the hero for a few days. When Dabi has some time to convince himself that he can shut it out, can think properly around Hawks without that distraction.  The second he sees Hawks again, he has no problem telling that voice to shut the absolute fuck up.  It's worth it. All of it. He didn’t care how much it hurt in the end.  He watches the hero packing up what little is left of the med kit after the few months they’ve had, and Dabi feels a second wave of guilt wash over him, followed so quickly by that surge of selfishness it feels like whiplash.  Hawks devoting so much care to making Dabi comfortable, to taking care of him, twisted guilt around in his stomach. But he knows something else too. He never would have given this level of care to himself.  A quick google search on how to pop a dislocated shoulder back into place, rip out the staples and replace them, rubbing alcohol and whatever bandages he can dig up over the open wounds. Done.  Hawks treats him like porcelain, like he deserves to be given the time it takes to do things properly, and it should make Dabi mad, shouldn’t it? Shouldn’t he be absolutely livid at being treated like glass? Maybe. He’s not.  Instead, he lets Hawks take the lead. Allows himself to be guided to lay on the bed, let’s Hawks prop him up with pillows so he isn’t laying flat. Then Hawks asks Dabi such a jarring question he is ripped out of his thoughts.  “What do you need?” Hawks is sitting cross-legged on the bed facing him. And maybe because of the alcohol buzzing through his mind, or maybe because he’s just fucking stupid, Dabi responds: “you.” Hawks must not understand, or else he thinks Dabi is too out of it and not wording things properly, because he smiles a smile that says ‘we’re friends, of course I’m here’.  Dabi tries something else then, “ice?” Hawks face lights up with surprise, “oh shit, yeah hang on.” He jostles the bed a bit as he hops off of it and Dabi tries not to wince. Hawks returns less than a minute later with an ice pack from his freezer and a towel to pad it with.  An hour later, the ice pack has long since melted against his unnaturally hot skin, but he can’t, won’t, wake Hawks up to ask for another one. Hawks is curled up facing him on the bed, and Dabi shifts down the bed as much as he can without hurting himself, falling asleep to the sound of gentle breathing and a foreign feeling of warmth from another body besides his own.

It’s two days after Christmas. The worst of the season is over, only a few more days left to suffer in isolation while those around flaunt their picture perfect lives.  Given Naruto’s overall exuberance for life and all things festive, his disdain of the Christmas holidays catches many off guard. Those who don’t know his childhood history are quick to tease and label him as a mean ole Grinch. Those who know his history, however, understand the origin of his contempt. Navigating the end of the year is not an easy task for an orphan who was robbed of all blood ties.  Naruto arrives at his dorm room after completing his fourth shift since the twenty-fifth. It's been busy at the little sushi restaurant next to Ichiraku’s. He’s grateful for securing a position as a waiter. The service job together with grants and financial assistance should provide enough funds to help him survive another semester at university. It wasn’t like he had better plans for the holidays, or any plans if he was being honest. His friends were enjoying the holidays with their families, while he was left behind uninvited and with no one but his coworkers to spend the festive season with. He truly felt like the fictional orphan, Harry Potter. Except his life was devoid of magic and dark whimsical adventures. The only adventure he had in these days leading up to the new year was a battle between ice and rubber as he trudged through the wintry landscape to work each evening.   Heated puffs of breath are blown onto his frozen palms to assist the thawing process. Once sensation has returned to his fingers, he unzips his knapsack to retrieve a large bento box. One of the perks for working at a restaurant was the free food you could take home.  The chef, a woman in her forties, had taken a liking to him as he reminded her of her son who was stationed at a military base in South Korea. He didn’t mind the teasing pinches she sent his way when he messed up an order or accidentally spilled a bowl of hot miso over the clean tiled floors. His colleagues found her meddlesome, but he enjoyed the feeling of being seen and cared for.  Every night just after closing, she would personally prepare his dinner. In those moments and tonight, he pretends that he’s eating a meal carefully prepared by the woman who birthed him. As he bites into sweet potato tempura, he wonders if his mother was a good cook. Did she often cook for his father? He wishes he knew more about the woman whose breath ceased to exist while he inhaled his first.  Other than the brief details of her death, the only information his godfather offered about his mother was that she was a beautiful redhead with a fiery temper. Even less was shared about the man who helped conceive him. All Naruto knew was that he shared the same hair colour as his father, and that the young man perished in a car crash on the way to meet his newborn son.  An ill omen if there was ever one. A blight to mankind. A person with no roots, no one to call family. Just a burden on society.  There were times when he considered ending things. Thankfully though with time, his skin has grown a protective shield, enabling him to be better equipped at dealing with those deadly inclinations. He’s made it this far in life on his own, and even if he still hasn’t experienced the feeling of belongingness, he hopes to one day bring that happiness to another person’s life.  Ever since he laid eyes on Sakura in high school, he worked hard on granting her that privilege. But all those efforts were in vain. From their last interaction, it is clear where her affections lie. It was time to cut his losses and move on. But habits are hard to break, it’s why he’s now on a social media app scrolling through the pink head’s feed. Bored of mundane photos of her with family and old friends, Naruto’s mind wanders to Hinata. He had never looked her up before, because her life was an open book to him. Either she was studying or back at home with her family. From their conversations, he knew she didn’t have much of a social life. The recent confrontation with Sasuke, however, made him doubt how much he truly knew about her.  After searching various iterations of her name, he is about to give up when he comes across an account for H. Hyuga. It’s just his luck that the female’s profile is open. It’s not the person he is searching for. The resemblance is uncanny, but this young woman has short brown hair and a slender, tom-boyish figure compared to the voluptuous curves and long black hair he had the personal luxury of caressing.  Just the tiny thumbnail of the most recent shot in her album begins to irk him before the full-sized image is revealed. The spiky jet black hair of his enemy/friend is easily recognizable. Sasuke is seated on a wooden bench in a dimly lit outdoor area with the brown-haired tom-boy sitting shoulder to shoulder next to him. His expression is of boredom, while hers is teasing and spirited.  From the caption, he concludes that the relationship is platonic and he should immediately befriend this young woman.   “Never understood what all the fuss was about.”  The next picture is of the girl with her hands around Hinata’s cousin, Neji. The similarities in features, stance and physical makeup is much stronger between these two. If Hinata were in the shot, she would look like an outsider.  His first assumption is that this is Neji’s sister and Hinata’s cousin. But he knows Neji is an only child like himself. An orphan who was fortunate enough to be taken in by his father’s relatives. As he surveys the background of the photo, his eyes zero in on the female he is searching for. Barely discernible and heavily pixelated, Hinata is still a vision in a black, floor length gown. Her hair is pulled back from her face, and it’s one of the few instances where her delicate features are visible. He wonders why in God's name she hides her beauty from the world.  Once he is able to pry his eyes off of Hinata, he notices a tall, pale, older male next to Hinata. Naruto brows scrunches in annoyance, but shrugs it off as another pretty boy relative of hers. He instead focus on the caption - “Can you spot the elusive birthday girl? Happy Birthday Nee-san.”  The photo was posted only a couple hours ago, which meant today was Hinata’s birthday. Naruto is tempted to reach out. His fingers type out a birthday greeting over text, which he promptly deletes. He was never the first to reach out and as much as she seemed to care for him, why wasn’t he invited to this fancy party. Was he not good enough to be around her family? Was Hinata just another rich snob like Sasuke? Was he being tossed to the side just as Sakura was?  Naruto wonders if Hinata is now in Sasuke’s company. Would they both laugh at his simpering if he reached out? Hinata never gave the impression of a cruel person, but it was becoming more apparent that there was a visible divide between the rich and everyone else.  Tapping the power button to the right of his phone, he switches it off for the night and turns on the TV to drown out his thoughts.   

True to his word - or thoughts - Robotnik did not mention the night before when he and Stone woke the next morning. He accepted a latte from Stone without complaint, asked after Stone’s wound and then sequestered himself at the desk to check over the files he had recovered from the night before. He was not looking forward to the long drive they had back to his main lab, but since Stone didn’t seem particularly interested in bringing up the night before either, Robotnik was able to partially relax. Walters was in contact with Stone in the morning to discuss their sudden departure, and to congratulate them for their work, and that was that. Stone left only once, to clean the car considering he had been bleeding when they had left their mission the night before. When Robotnik was ready to leave, they left, Stone checking them out of the motel, loading the car with their belongings and sliding into the driver’s side. “Do you want to stop somewhere for breakfast, Doctor?” Stone asked. “No.” Robotnik said shortly, “But if you need to eat Stone, don’t let me stop you.” Halfway through their drive, Stone pulled into a petrol station and disappeared inside momentarily to grab a sandwich and some water. Robotnik stretched as he did, getting out and moving to the driver’s side, and watched the others gathered at the station filling up their cars or taking a break from a long journey. No one paid much attention to their car, or the way Stone was slightly wincing when he returned from the wound in his side. “Thank you Doctor.” Stone said as he took the passenger’s seat so he could eat and hydrate. Robotnik didn’t say anything, merely pulled out of the station and drove them away. He put music on, drowning out the otherwise uncomfortable silence, and kept his hands tightly on the wheel as Stone examined his side after he finished eating. There was no more blood, but the scent lingered as Stone pressed his fingers around the stitches and hissed.  “Make sure you seek medical attention this time, Agent.” Robotnik ordered, “I don’t want a repeat of what happened in Italy.” “I will Doctor.” Stone agreed. And that was that. The rest of the trip went in silence despite the length of the drive they had. They switched driving again once more, with Stone doing the last part of the drive right back to the lab, where Walters was waiting for them.  Before the Commander could say anything, Stone stated, “I’m going to the medical bay, Doctor,” tossed the keys to the car to Walters and walked off, leaving Walters and Robotnik alone.  “Agent Stone was injured again,” Walters inquired, watching the Agent walk away, “Should I be concerned?” “You should be more concerned that one of your GENERALS betrayed us,” Robotnik snapped, “My report will be EMAILED as it always is, Commander.” And then he left, back into the lab, leaving Walters to sigh and throw the keys to a soldier standing by him to move the car. He would be speaking to Stone alone anyway about the incident, and he was sure he would get more information about the incident when he did.  At least Stone was actually seeking medical attention this time.  -- Over the last week, neither Stone or Robotnik had brought up the Doctor pinning Stone to the wall, or the fact that Stone had revealed the bite mark scars on his neck, and the tension had continued. They continued to work around each other, and Stone’s stab wound healed well, but there was a tension hanging in the air around them, leftover from the tension that had started after Italy. Stone was on the edge of giving in and demanding answers, and Robotnik was ready to lock Stone out of the lab and ignore it for as long as he could, but it seemed there was one presence in the lab that was tired of the two tip-toeing around each other. If there was one thing to be said about the Doctor, it was that his machines were kept in meticulous, tip top shape. Anyone who knew anything about the Doctor knew that his machines meant more to him than anything in the world, including himself, and their outward appearance was a reflection of perfection, and Robotnik’s own ego - sleek and shiny, and hiding a myriad of weaponry. Most people were afraid of them, and if a Badnik appeared, it meant trouble. Stone was used to them by now, and had no problems navigating around them, especially since they came in different sizes.  Speckles was the one Badnik that loved Stone the most, and the only one Stone had nicknamed with something that didn’t end in the “Nik” suffix as all the other ones did: Badnik, Crabnik, Beenik, Bugnik etc. Out of all the variations, Speckles was a MiniNik - emphasis on the capital N for MiniNik, Robotnik had once told Stone - about the size of a grapefruit, and built slightly differently to the other robots. He was an older model, a prototype medical drone that Robotnik had decommissioned after issues with Speckles, but he kept the little Bot around.  It was safe to say Stone had a soft spot for Speckles, because he definitely treated this little Bot differently to the others. Speckles would follow Stone around the lab when he wasn’t shut down, and Stone would give the little MiniNik affectionate pats every now and then, prompting a few happy beeps in response. If Stone ever forgot to pat Speckles when he passed it, the Bot would bump into his hand or his head as if demanding attention, usually prompting amusement from Stone. And Speckles loved Stone.  So much so that when Stone pulled into a fast food drive through on the way home - a week and a half after the end of their mission in Oregon - he found Speckles nestled in his inside pocket as he patted himself down for his wallet. He didn’t put the Bot in there, and he hadn’t been close to enough to Robotnik at any point during that day for the Doctor to have slipped it in there, so it meant Speckles had taken refuge there itself, so it could come home with Stone. It made Stone’s blood run cold.  Even with Speckles being an older model, there were alarms and sensors all over the labs that told him if a Badnik was leaving the lab without permission. He was paranoid - with good reason - of people trying to steal from him, and the alarms were Robotnik’s failsafe for if anyone did actually manage to get through his other array of defences. Stone had seen how Robotnik dealt with thieves - he had had to clean up the bodies after all - and a shiver ran through him at what the Doctor would do to him. Especially after the display in the motel room.  Stone came back to himself to the fast food worker asking him if he were okay, and he managed a relatively calm “Yes”, before fishing out his wallet, paying for his food and heading straight back to the lab. He knew the Doctor would still be there, since he practically lived at the lab, and if he got there quickly enough, he might be able to explain why Speckles had come with him. It was also wine night for the Doctor, so fingers crossed he was in a good mood. Parking rather haphazardly, Stone left all his food but the drink on the seat, locked the car and rushed back into the lab.  And promptly dropped the drink at what he saw. Robotnik had the lights turned low, a fire projected onto the floating screens around the lab, and low music echoing around the lab. He was sitting at the console, a wine glass in front of him, half full with a deep red liquid that he was pouring from a vial with his ungloved hands. Red eyes, set against black sclera, stared at Stone, the Doctor’s face open-mouthed in shock, showing sharp fangs that glistened in the firelight. All those irrational thoughts suddenly came rushing back as Stone’s eyes flicked from Robotnik’s eyes, to his fangs, to the liquid he was pouring. He knew wine when he saw it, and he knew blood when he saw it, and there was only one thing Robotnik was pouring into the glass. Fuck. “Doctor I…Speckles.” Stone managed to say, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling the MiniNik out. “I just wanted to bring them back.”  Silence followed his statement, with Stone extremely aware of the drink he had dropped spreading across the metal lab floor, and Robotnik seemingly frozen. Stone couldn’t bring himself to do anything but cross over to the little charging port that Speckles usually occupied and placed the MiniNik there before turning to leave. Robotnik’s eyes followed him as he moved, still frozen, still wide, not as apoplectic as Stone had seen him before when he had interrupted something important.  It was only when Stone was at the doorway, ready to leave, that he paused. This was his chance to address the issue, to discuss it with the Doctor, but with his current reaction there was no way Robotnik was going to say anything, so it was up to Stone.  It might be his only chance.  “I…” He began, turning toward the Doctor and letting the lab door close behind him, “I knew you were a vampire, Doctor.” Blunt and to the point, the sentence seemed to snap Robotnik out of his frozen moment and he pushed both the vial and the glass away from him, looking for all the world that he wanted to deny it, but seeing there was no point in doing.  “I know vampires exist.” Stone continued, “I won’t judge you, or think you’re lying, if you confirm it.”  “Even if you didn’t know vampires existed, you wouldn’t have judged me anyway,” Robotnik said coldly, “You know your place. Clean up the mess you made, Stone, and we can talk.”  Heading to the kitchenette in the lab, Stone felt his stomach twist a little as nervousness flooded him. He had wanted to break the tension they had been suffering under since Italy, he had wanted an explanation for the Doctor’s actions in Oregon, he had wanted to put these irrational thoughts to bed, but now he was faced with the opportunity to do so, his mouth was dry and his hands were trembling. Grabbing some kitchen roll, Stone headed back to the lab and began to pad and clean up the spilt drink as Robotnik watched him, tapping his fingers against the console.  The blood sat undrank in the glass. “If you need to drink Doctor, I won’t say anything.” Stone murmured, keeping his eyes down, “I’d rather have you cognizant and not thinking about drinking from me.”  Robotnik snorted and said, “As if you’re that inviting to me,” but he did take the glass and sip from it. Wadding up the kitchen roll and throwing it in the bin, Stone put the rest onto a random surface and pulled a chair over to sit by the Doctor.  “What do you want to hear, Stone? You’ve seen everything,” He demanded. Stone blinked, “I just want to hear you say it Doctor. And I’m sure you have questions.”  Shifting in his chair, Robotnik took a bigger gulp from his glass and nodded. “I am a vampire. But you said you knew.” “I did. Or I suspected.” Stone agreed, “When Commander Walters advised that you had been constantly trying to get rid of me despite our symbiotic working relationship, I decided to really pay attention to your little quirks and behaviours, Doctor.” Robotnik raised an eyebrow, and Stone flushed a little in embarrassment, “I know you were doing the same at the beginning, sir.” “You’re right, I was. I wanted to know what drove you to stay by my side despite how I pushed you. And I think you’re going to give me the answers tonight, aren’t you Agent?” Stone nodded in agreement, “I will Doctor. During the time I spent watching you, my irrational brain decided to label you as inhuman. I of course pushed those thoughts away, but Italy…well, what happened at the ambush brought them back.” Making an annoyed noise, Robotnik put the glass down with a clink and laced his fingers together. He was surprisingly calm, but Stone could see the want to fidget resting just below the surface. It was being held back for Stone’s benefit, he assumed, since he had a feeling the Doctor didn’t want to make any sudden movements that would antagonise Stone.  “Of all the assistants they had to send me, they actually went with a competent, observant one,” The Doctor complained, though there was little malice to his words. “Yes, Italy was a little difficult to pass off, although you seemed to buy my excuse easily enough.” “I didn’t, but I internalised my concerns.” Stone clarified, “Umm…actually I was buying the situation until I did some research and found a video from…um…Twilight.” “From what?” Robotnik asked, sounding unimpressed from the name alone.  “Twilight, Doctor. It’s a book and film series about vampires. And werewolves. And a human that falls in love with them and becomes one herself. There’s a scene in there where a car skids on some ice and the vampire character does the impossible and stops the car by speeding over and crunching it with his strength so-.” “Wait.” Robotnik interrupted, holding up a hand so Stone fell silent, his brow furrowed. “Is Twilight the movie with the sparkly vampires?” Stone nodded slowly.  “You decided I was a vampire from a movie about vampires who sparkle?! ” “No Doctor! It was the twilight video that kinda convinced me that maybe my irrational brain wasn’t so irrational.” Stone clarified quickly. “It sounds stupid.” “That’s because it is.” Robotnik sniffed, taking another sip from his glass before putting the entire thing aside and lacing his fingers together. “As you have correctly assumed, the story I gave you about the incident in Italy was incorrect. The car went flying into the air because I punched it there, to block another incoming rocket, and protect you. And I also punched the car to the side when it came back down to nearly hit you.” “I appreciate it, Doctor.” Robotnik waved him off, “I may have been trying to get rid of you, Stone, but you’re not as expendable as I like to make you think. And breaking in another Agent? Who has the time for that?” Stone smiled despite Robotnik’s excuse and looked down at his hands for a moment. A memory flashed up, the blood on his palm that the Doctor had been zeroed in on, from their latest mission, and the blood on his palm from punching out the mirror in the plane bathroom, and how the Doctor had held that hand too. There was a lot they still needed to talk about, but the prospect of actually verbalising the incident that had happened to him before working for the Doctor was gnawing at Stone’s mind. He had told no one, and he was scared.  Too scared. Noticing the slight raise in Stone’s heartbeat, Robotnik tilted his head a little and crossed one leg over the other. “Agent Stone, your heart rate is increasing. Tell me why?” Blinking, Stone pulled a face as he realised that Robotnik had always been able to sense his change in mood from the tempo of his heart, before schooling his expression and twiddling his thumbs. “You asked me for answers, and I said I would give them.” He began to answer slowly, and Robotnik was patient enough to wait for the words, “But I have never told anyone the answers you want before and…I…it still affects me.” “Does this explain the unprofessional behaviour you displayed on our way back from Italy?” Robotnik guessed, giving a half-grin when Stone’s nod confirmed his theory, “You revealed to me that you’ve been bitten before.” Robotnik continued, eyes on Stone’s neck, the marks hidden now under his suit, but the vampire knew exactly where they were, had been thinking about them since the first time he had seen them, and Stone could feel those red eyes boring into him.  “I have.” Stone whispered, “Before I was assigned to you, Doctor. It was…I…” The words wouldn’t come, no matter how Stone tried to force them, and he couldn’t understand why. His heart beat continued to elevate, and it made Robotnik shift. “If you cannot talk about this Agent, don’t force yourself too.” He snapped, “I can’t guarantee I won’t bite you.”  “What?!” Their eyes met, Stone’s wide in concern and Robotnik’s wider in shock that he had said those words. Well, it looked like he was going to have to admit more than he had wanted to that night, if only to make sure Stone was fully aware of the entire situation, and could make an informed decision.  “Your blood is extremely enticing, Agent Stone.” Robotnik said through gritted teeth, “It always has been to me. I have never sensed, or smelt, blood as pure and balanced as yours. Any vampire that ever smelled your blood, or tasted it, would not want to let you go. Did you not wonder over my reaction when you were stabbed?”  Stone blinked, “Oh. Um…That’s…I don’t know what to say about that.” Robotnik shrugged. “I will not repeat this again, Agent. If you struggle to talk about this, don’t force yourself too.” It was something Stone wanted to tell Robotnik, especially after everything the Doctor had revealed to him in the last few minutes, but the anxiety he felt was only getting worse with Robotnik’s admittal that Stone’s blood was tempting to him. So tempting that he had nearly drunk from Stone during their last mission, and Stone didn’t want to linger on those thoughts much. He trusted the Doctor, but the thought of being fed from again made his hands shake.  All his burning questions had faded with the anxiety of telling the Doctor about his experience, so he stayed silent as Robotnik watched him.  “Stone?” “I’m sorry.” Stone ground out, “I was struggling, Doctor, but I’m okay now. I can tell you what happened to me.” 

Vi frantically shoved her keys into the ignition, loud jerks and sputters filled her ears. “C’mon you piece of shit,” she slammed her hand against the dash. Deep frustration coursed through her veins. Vi screamed before resting her head against the steering wheel in defeat. Her alarm not going off, the coffee machine breaking, and washing her clothes in cologne didn’t even come close to the grand finale of her pickup not starting. Out of all the days, it had to be this one. Today was too important for this amount of bullshit. Just before all hope was lost, the car finally crackled to life. A low but strong hum sounded from the engine. Vi breathed a sigh of relief before slamming her foot on the gas and speeding off into the street. She’s late. Well she was already going to be late before her shitty truck wouldn’t start, but that’s besides the point.  Today she was going to see an apartment and hopefully sign a lease on her very first apartment.  Between living on the streets as a kid, below The Last Drop, and then straight to prison, getting her own apartment rarely crossed her mind. But now it was different. With her promotion at Jericho’s and her weekend fights picking back up she can actually afford a decent place. She finally had the chance to be an adult who wasn’t stuck under Vander’s foot or in a cell.    That’s if she could actually make it in time. . Caitlyn Kiramman stared at herself in the floor length mirror, weary blue eyes looked back at her.  She tightened her ponytail and flattened the barely visible wrinkles on her blouse, the anxiety slowly building in her chest. Meeting a new tenant was always nerve-wracking but this one was especially so. Caitlyn didn’t know anything about this tenant other than they were an ex-convict. Which of course piqued her interest. Caitlyn was excited to finally have a potentially interesting tenant. Most were the same. Young rich college kids who picked the first expensive apartment they saw online and partied every night. She’s already had too many unpleasant interactions, one of her least favorite aspects of the job. Caitlyn was pretty sure all the tenants hated her but she didn’t care, her cut of their rent was all that mattered. The buzzing phone on the dresser brought her out of her thoughts. An old picture of Cassandra Kiramman filled up the screen. Caitlyn exhaled sharply through her nose before picking up the phone.  “Hello? Yes mother, I'm leaving now….mhm…yes of course I know what I’m doing….alright….goodbye mother.  She gripped the bridge of her nose in frustration. The constant underlying criticism and questioning from her mother has become aggravating.  It started the first time Caitlyn changed her major. Subtle comments over dinner slowly turned into screaming matches by her senior year.  That was three years ago and she still couldn’t figure out why she’s still working for her mother, the pressure to inherit the company growing stronger everyday. Caitlyn appreciated her job of course, but it isn’t what she wants. All she wanted was for her parents to support what she truly wanted to do. If only she knew what that was. Caitlyn Kiramman sighed deeply, despite all her feelings she refused to wallow or not do her job to the best of her capabilities. With new focus, she opened her front door and walked to meet her new tenant. . With sheer determination and a touch of reckless driving, Vi only managed to be fifteen minutes late. Not a great first impression but she decided to be optimistic for the first time in her adult life.  That decision ended when Vi heard a loud screech as she parked. After slowly, hesitantly getting out of the car, she examined the source of the sound. A tiny, thin, barely-visible scratch appeared on the door of the silver car next to her.  Shit, Vi thought while rubbing her temples in frustration. She could barely see the mark so hopefully whoever drove the car didn’t see it either.   Hesitation pooled in her gut immediately as she observed her surroundings. Vi looked around at the expensive shiny cars in the apartment parking lot, her truck practically crumbling into dust next to them.  She could feel all the fissure folk collectively kick her ass for trying to live here. But whatever, she could deal with a few stuck-up assholes if it meant a better life. All she could hope for was that her future landlord could look past her background to actually make that happen. . They’re late , Caitlyn thought to herself while standing in front of the vacant apartment. Out of all the traits she hated in people, being late was one of the worst. Her interest in this tenant was slowly dissipating with every passing minute. She was probably going to hate them just as much as she hated the othe- “Kiramman?”  Caitlyn turned around to witness the most attractive woman she’s ever seen in her entire life. She wore dark, tight, jeans and a fire red jacket. Her full muscled figure was clearly visible through the thin shirt and pants. Caitlyn could see the beginnings of a tattoo on her neck along with the Roman numeral six on her cheek. Vibrant pink hair covered half her face, the rest of head buzzed short. Caitlyn took quick note of her scarred lip and brow, her nose and ear piercings, the freckles scattered across her face, and the strong, beautiful, gray eyes staring up at her. “Take a picture, it'll last longer.” The beautiful woman smirked. Caitlyn’s eyes widened as she finally snapped out of her trance. “I- my apologies, let’s get on with the tour.”  “So, Violet your information stat-“ “It’s Vi.” “Hm?” “I go by Vi,” she stated passively while looking around the apartment, hands in pockets. Vi. Vi. Vi. Caitlyn repeated the short name in her head over and over like a prayer. Despite her entire body lighting up she refused to embarrass herself further.  “Right, of course. So Vi, my name is Caitlyn and I manage this property. This is our latest addition to the unit. One bedroom, one bathroom, nine hundred square feet, and an in-unit laundry room. This complex is equipped with a pool, gym, coffee bar, and anything else you may need. Office hours are from nine to six and rent is due the first of the month. And of course no smoking or pets, any questions?” “You own the complex Caitlyn?” Vi asked. She tried not to react from the way Vi said her name, “my family does.” “Hm,” Vi turned a corner into the kitchen, running her hand along the smooth countertop. Caitlyn could see the beginnings of even more tattoos on the backs of her arms. She couldn’t help but wonder how far they went up. “You live here?” “Yes, the floor above you.” “Damn, I’ll make sure to be quiet then.” Vi winked. Oh this flirt, Caitlyn couldn’t help but admire the utter confidence the woman had. Making suggestive comments while still touring the apartment? Bold. Fine, despite the very obvious professional line she was dangling over, two could play at this game.  “These questions are getting awfully personal.” Caitlyn said with a small smirk. “Geez Ms. Professional, you’re the one who asked if I had any questions.” Vi matched Caitlyn’s smirk. “Well, maybe I have some questions for you, Vi.” “Alright,” she spread her tattooed arms wide, “ask away.” Caitlyn crossed her arms and stood up straighter. “What made you choose this apartment complex?”  “I wanted a big upgrade from my last place.” Vi answered. “Which was where?” “I think you know that already.” A beat of silence followed before the muscular woman spoke again. I didn’t eat any babies if that’s what you're wondering.” She grinned wildly. “I wasn’t.” “Sure you weren’t.” “How long was your sentence and what crimes did you commit?” “I got a life sentence for renting an apartment and killing the unit manager. Oh but don’t worry, they weren’t as pretty as you.” It took all of Caitlyn’s strength to stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks. This woman was absolutely relentless . “What makes you think I’ll even lease this apartment to you after your comments and background?” Vi shrugged casually, “call me an optimist.” Caitlyn scoffed before the muscular woman sauntered over to her, eyeing her up and down. “Now, since you’ve asked me all these questions I have one more for you.” “And that is?” Caitlyn followed Vi’s gaze as she walked. Vi grinned wickedly. “Where do I sign, landlady?” . “Pull it up dipshit! “I’m doing it dumbass! ” Mylo strained to hold up the large couch up the stairs, thick matted brown hair stuck to his forehead. Claggor held the sofa with ease, barely breaking a sweat. “Maybe it would help if Jinx could get off!” Mylo yelled. Jinx lazily drooped over the sofa, electric blue braids swaying in the night air. “Ugh, fine. ” The annoyed woman slid off the couch and hopped onto the ground. Vi carried two large boxes with one arm. The brown and white pitbull bulldog mix obediently treading beside her.  “Good boy, Kujo.” Vi said lovingly. Jinx skipped along the pavement, carrying zero boxes or couches without a care in the world. She sped up and playfully bumped her sister’s shoulder with hers. “Thanks for letting me move in Vi, we can kick the boy’s out later.” Vi laughed and ruffled Jinx’s bangs with her free hand, “no problem Powder.” This was, actually, a big problem. Not only was Vi not allowed to have Kujo, she definitely wasn’t allowed to have three other people live in her apartment. But the risk was better than the streets or prison again, she couldn’t say no to her family. On the other hand, Vi couldn’t stop thinking about her new landlady, Caitlyn Kiramman. Vi knew flirting with her was a terrible idea but she couldn’t help herself, it was too much fun. Those long legs and straight back, her lean body and deep, commanding voice. Vi wanted to run her fingers through those silky blue locks. “Hey Vi, could you open the door before Mylo blacks out?” Claggor asked. “Nah, I think I’ll wait.” “ Bitch. ” The siblings snickered while the oldest unlocked the door to their future home. The boys finally dropped the furniture in the living room with a loud boom. Mylo collapsed on the couch, the rest of the siblings followed until Kujo completed the dog pile by stretching across them.    They quickly drifted off to sleep, but not before Vi thought about her life, and what her future might hold. How was she going to pull this off? Could she actually maintain this? Vi had to make this work, all she had to do was keep her family a secret, while getting to know her landlady at the same time.

Jasper   Jasper feels Bella’s suspicion, but she doesn’t seem to be upset at the idea of Alice and Jasper watching her.  “Yes. I saw a vision of you with the rifle and I thought you must be in danger. We came to help you but didn’t want to intervene unless it was necessary. Clearly, we had nothing to worry about. You are a skilled markswoman. Was that your first time shooting?” Alice asks. Jasper feels Alice’s anxiousness at the prospect of Bella being upset with them.  “Yes it was, I did a lot of research beforehand. But you know...you could have said something earlier. I missed you guys. We could have had this conversation yesterday…” Bella trails off, seemingly not knowing what exactly her point is.  “I know. I am very sorry if we invaded your privacy in that way. But I thought you were doing these reckless things as a way to get Edward to come back.” Alice says gently.  Jasper feels Bella’s sadness and betrayal before she quickly silences those thoughts. Jasper is impressed with her control. “And I didn’t want to risk hurting you more by showing my face, bringing up bad memories, and then leaving.” Alice continues. Bella looks down and fiddles with the hem of her pants again.  “Edward made his choice. And it hurt a lot at first but there’s no point in waiting for someone who doesn’t even love me or… want me. So that made it a lot easier for me to get over it. But that doesn’t mean that I never want to see any of you ever again. I love all of you, you were like my second family. And even with Edward, I don’t see why we couldn’t be amicable one day. It would be difficult. But people fall out of love all the time. Just look at the divorce rates nowadays.” Bella chuckles half-heartedly, trying to use humor to ease her discomfort with the subject matter.  Jasper is almost surprised Bella believed Edward when he said that. Or perhaps she just didn’t think there was a possibility of him lying. Jasper wonders for a moment if they should tell her the truth, but that seems like something Edward would have to tell her for himself. He hopes Alice is on the same page. “I understand Bella. We have missed you too.” Alice replies simply. Bella gives them a small smile.  “Actually, Jasper and I were talking last night and we thought that we could stick around for a while, and maybe watch your graduation ceremony. We could make sure you don’t get hurt on any of these little adventures of yours. If that is something you might like?” Alice asks hopefully. Jasper feels Bella’s surprise and excitement at Alice’s offer. “Yes, absolutely! I would love that! But...What about everyone else? Do they know you’re here?” Bella asks. “We told them that we were visiting our friends Peter and Charlotte for a while.” Alice states. “Okay, cool,” Bella replies with a small smile. Jasper is confused by Bella’s emotions. She seems disappointed by Alice’s answer but doesn’t want them to know it. Is it because she wants to see the rest of the family too? Or Edward? Could she just be upset that they lied to their family? Jasper wants to ask but doesn’t want to make Bella feel as though he is invading her emotional state. He opts for changing the subject instead.  “Did you have any more adventures planned for the day?” He asks. Bella beams at him. “I’m sure I can think of something.” She replies, almost sinister.    Alice insists that they take Carlisle’s Mercedes to whatever place Bella has decided to endanger herself at. Bella agrees, knowing they can’t all fit comfortably in her truck. But she insists on driving so the activity is a “surprise”. Bella has to know that you cannot surprise someone who can see the future.  “Alice, what are we getting ourselves into?” Jasper asks from the backseat. He immediately regrets it when Bella’s scent burns the back of his throat like a fire.  He holds his breath again and pushes himself as far back in his seat as possible, steeling himself like a statue. “I’m not sure, Bella keeps changing her mind. Are you doing that on purpose?” Alice asks, looking over to Bella.  “It’s a surprise,” Bella replies, not really answering the question. Alice laughs in response and looks out the passenger window.  Alice has always been better about her bloodlust for Bella, likely due to more exposure time with her. However, Jasper can still feel it, like a dull ache mingling with his own burn. He remembers Bella’s birthday and instantly feels ashamed at his lack of control. Even though he felt the whole family’s bloodlust, he should have been able to stop himself. It shouldn’t have mattered how thirsty he was because it was Bella, a member of the family. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to try to hurt her.  “Jasper?” Bella cuts off his thoughts. His eyes dart up to meet hers in the rearview mirror. Her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.  Jasper realizes he is projecting his shame to them and reels it back in. Bella sighs in relief. He is embarrassed by himself. Not only can he not control his thirst, but he also can’t control his “gift” either. He is much too old to be making these kinds of mistakes.  Bella’s eyes alternate between looking at the road and looking at him in the mirror.  Jasper feels their combined concern.  He takes a deep breath and the stinging burn in his throat rages painfully, but he takes another. He has to get used to this if he is going to help protect Bella. The burning is almost unbearable. He takes a couple more breaths before meeting Bella’s eyes in the mirror. Looking into her concerned brown eyes helps him to ground himself. “Bella,” Jasper starts tentatively. Bella doesn’t respond but she looks back to the mirror again. “I am sorry.” He says quietly.  He looks down at his lap. What if she can’t forgive him? It is majorly his fault that the family left in the first place. Would she hold that against him? “For what?” Bella asks.  For what? Is she crazy? Did she somehow forget? What the hell does she mean “For what”?  “Um. For trying to kill you.” He says, almost as a question.  “Jasper Hale, I forgive you.” She responds confidently. This is strange. Why did she say his full name? Why did she forgive him? “I...don’t understand.” He states. Alice chuckles, still looking out the window. Jasper looks at the back of her head, feeling her bemusement.  “Jasper, it wasn’t your fault. No empath would have been able to handle that situation. I knew that and I should have been more cautious. It’s okay, I promise.” Bella says sincerely.  “Oh.” Jasper breathes.  This girl continues to surprise him like it’s her job. He looks out the window.  “Thank you,” Jasper says, not knowing what else to say.    Alice and Jasper follow Bella through Olympic National Park. Thankfully, Washington is ever cloudy. Despite the dreariness of the weather, the park is beautiful.  Jasper can sense Alice’s paranoia and Bella’s excitement. It is a strange combination of feelings. Alice must have seen what Bella decided to do. Jasper has a pretty good idea, but he will act surprised for Bella’s sake.  Bella stops near the base of a rocky cliff and looks around.  With a satisfied sigh, she takes off her backpack and starts toward the cliff.  “Wait, Bella, you didn’t even bring a rope?” Alice asks incredulously.  “Oh! Right.” Bella exclaims.  Bella walks over to Jasper and grabs him by the arms. Jasper freezes. “Bella,” Alice says warningly. Bella looks up at him and smiles cheesily. Jasper feels her trust in him and can’t help but feel as though it isn’t deserved as his throat burns relentlessly. Jasper feels a light pressure on his arms and looks down to where Bella is holding his arm. He realizes she’s trying to move him. “Oh,” He says quietly. He allows her to guide him to the base of the cliff and turns him so he is facing the cliff face.  “There! He can catch me if I fall.” Bella states proudly, as though this is a stroke of genius. “Oh my god,” Alice whispers.  Alice and Jasper watch as Bella starts to climb the cliff face with the confidence of a professional. Jasper doesn’t take his eyes off her for fear of missing a slip. Bella looks down for the first time and Jasper feels her adrenaline spike. Jasper projects it to Alice in the hope it will stifle her fear.  Bella’s foot slips and she grunts in surprise as her knee scrapes against the cliff face. Alice squeals and stops breathing. Jasper grunts and holds his breath and tries to focus on Bella’s emotions instead of the burning. His desire to not mess up again overpowers his thirst. Jasper moves in to catch her, but she doesn’t fall. “It’s okay,” Bella says, to herself and them, laughing breathlessly as she finds another foothold.  The closer Bella gets to the top of the cliff, the more intense her excitement gets.  Her hands finally reach the very top. Bella starts to pull herself up with her arms, grunting with effort. When she can’t pull herself up any higher she swings her leg up to the edge of the cliff. She pauses to take a deep breath and uses the leverage to struggle to the grassy clifftop. She rolls onto her back at the top, breathing hard. She swings her arm to the edge of the cliff and holds out a thumbs-up to Alice and Jasper.  Jasper is hit with that now-familiar euphoric feeling and smiles subconsciously. Bella laughs and adjusts herself so she is sitting at the edge, legs swinging, and looking down at them.  “Hell yeah!” Jasper yells, looking up at her. He thinks of Emmet when he says it. He feels her pride swell in response. She smiles down at him and pushes the sweaty hair out of her face. Jasper shares the euphoria with Alice. She laughs happily. “Wow! That was amazing Bella!” Alice yells up at her.  Bella stands up. “Thank you!” She responds, bowing dramatically. The euphoric rush must make them all look high. No one has stopped smiling since Bella reached the top. Jasper can’t remember the last time he felt this happy or saw Alice this happy. Bella looks down at Jasper and starts laughing almost maniacally. Jasper looks over at Alice who has suddenly stopped smiling.  “Alice? Did you see som-” His question is cut off by Bella. “Jasper, I trust you!” Bella yells down at him.  “Wha-” He is cut off again by Alice. “Bella! Don’t do it!” She yells desperately up at her.  Jasper looks up to the cliff’s edge, helplessly confused.  Bella is suddenly flying off the edge of the cliff and scream-laughing. Jasper’s eyes widen in fear and surprise. He has to catch her. The fire in his throat rages. Jasper jumps up to meet her in the air and wraps his arms around her. His feet hit the ground hard.  “And he sticks the landing!” Bella exclaims, laughing. Jasper places her on the ground and takes a couple of steps back before he does something regrettable. Alice looks at Bella with wide eyes and an open mouth. He looks between them, waiting for something to happen. “I, you, just.” Alice sputters. It’s rare to see Alice at a loss for words. She takes a moment to compose herself and starts back towards the car.   Bella tends to her knee with a first aid kit from the glove box. Jasper and Alice stand a safe distance away and wait. The smell of isopropyl alcohol makes the scent significantly less appetizing.  When she is done, Bella gets up and gets in the back seat. Jasper and Alice get in the front and close the doors. Jasper becomes nervous for Bella. Alice drives for two minutes before saying anything.  “Do you have a death wish?! What the hell were you thinking?! You weren’t! What if Jasper hadn’t caught you?! You were bleeding Bella! Why would you ever think to jump off a cliff into a vampire’s arms while bleeding?! Are you insane?!” Alice rants loudly. Bella flinches at her words.  She remains silent and stares forward. “Well?!” Alice asks. Bella composes herself. “Jasper, I am sorry I put you in that difficult situation. I was too confident and I acted... extremely stupidly. But I do really trust you, Jasper. That was real. And you more than proved my trust wasn’t misplaced.”  Bella pauses. “I am sorry. Truly. To both of you.” She finishes.  Alice’s eyes flicker to Jasper.  “That’s okay, darlin’. I can’t very well protect you if I can’t handle a little blood.” Jasper says over his shoulder.  Bella smiles, relieved.  Alice sighs defeatedly.

After hanging up with Patrick the girls talked. "That was close." Veronica said. "Very, I'm glad dad and Uncle Martin got there and that Eustace is going to be there too." Vanessa replied. "What do you think it was about this particular woman that set him off?" Veronica asked, "I mean he hasn't had a problem for the past twenty-five years." "True but my question is why didn't finding his mate help? And why was he able to know her without raping her?" Vanessa asked. "We need to talk to him ASAP but not tonight, he's still pretty shaken up and he needs to talk to Eustace. Tomorrow will be soon enough." Veronica wrote some notes on her laptop as Vanessa wrote in hers, they wouldn't talk about what they wrote until later when they both had a chance to process the information that Patrick gave them. They each had their own theory as to what was happening with not just the males in their family but in the vampire male who resorted to rape or violence. Each kept her theory to herself not wanting to influence the thoughts of the other and wouldn't share until Patrick had a chance to enter his own theory into his laptop that he hadn't picked up yet. Once he did, they would meet, compare notes and go from there. The girls worked in silence for a few minutes until Vanessa spoke. "I wonder what she's like." "Who?" Veronica asked distractedly. "Uncle Patrick's mate, I wonder what she's like?" "I'm sure that we'll meet her when it's time... hey are you done with your notes already?" "No not yet, I was just thinking how hard this must be for him." Vanessa replied. "Well thinking about it isn't going to help him." Veronica said as she continued to work. Vanessa looked over at Veronica, of the two of them Veronica was the more straight forward and not always sympathetic or empathetic whereas Vanessa was sometimes too much so but they balanced each other and worked extremely well together but Vanessa felt led to issue a warning to Veronica. "Ronnie when we talk with Uncle Patrick, be careful ok? He's really upset." Veronica didn't argue. She knew how she could be and Vanessa was right, she had to watch her tongue. It couldn't have been easy for Patrick to tell them what happened. "Got it." she replied as she kept typing. Vanessa went back to entering her notes and finished when Veronica did. It was early yet and they could still get quite a bit of work done. "Why don't we make sure the PET scan machine is alright before we use it?" Veronica said as she stood up and stretched. Both of them had taken an extensive training class on operating the machine, they hired the consultant for a month to show them how the machine worked and how to trouble shoot any problems that came up. By the end of the month the consultant was so enamored with both of them that his memory of them had to be erased. After that they looked for a vampire that would come and take care of any issues that they couldn't take care of themselves. They checked the machine over twice, the first time Veronica looked over the mechanisms while Vanessa called them out, the second time they switched places. "It looks good." Vanessa said. "We'll ask Uncle Patrick if we can do a PET scan on him when we talk to him." Veronica said, "and yes I know, be careful of how I ask." Vanessa smiled, but her mind was somewhere else. "Nessa what's up? You've got that wistful look on your face again." "Don't you ever wonder about what would happen if we found our mates or they found us?" 'Not really, I mean I hope we find each other but it's not something that I consciously think about but obviously you do." Veronica said. "Guilty." Vanessa said, "But it's not like I think about it all of the time but I want what mom and dad have. I want babies... don't you?" Veronica hesitated. "I guess I do but I've decided that it'll happen when and if it's supposed to and thinking about it isn't going to make it happen any faster." "You're right." Vanessa conceded, "We still have time to make it home unless you want to stay here for some reason." "No, let's go, you wouldn't be interested in helping me clear off my bed would you?" Veronica asked. Vanessa laughed, "I was wondering when you were going to ask." An hour later, Veronica's bed was cleared off and there was actually a place to sit after Vanessa helped her hang up her clothes. "You know if you hung things up or put them in the hamper when you were finished with them...." "Ok mom." Veronica grumbled. Vanessa sounded more like Katrina than she realized. "Oops, I sounded like mom and dad didn't I?" Vanessa asked giggling. "It's ok, and besides you're right. I think that I have to have some place that I don't have to worry about being organized in and its here." "Understandable." Vanessa replied, "I'm headed off to bed, see you later." Vanessa went to her immaculately clean room, undressed and got ready for bed. As she brushed her teeth she formulated the questions that she wanted to ask Patrick. It occurred to her that Eustace would ask the same questions and that afterwards they should compare notes to see if Patrick's answers were any different or if his impressions of the event had changed. She was even thinking that they should ask Eustace to join them in their research; he could concentrate on the psychological aspect of their research freeing her and Veronica to concentrate on the rest of it. When she saw Veronica later in the evening, she would bring it up. Veronica tossed and turned, she hadn't been entirely honest with Vanessa, she thought about finding her mate more than she had let on. She didn't even tell her about the voice that asked "where are you?" that she heard in her head a few days ago and several times since. At the time she had discounted it as a dream but she really wasn't sure that it was since she heard it several times. She didn't know why she was so reluctant to tell Vanessa about it since they told each other everything. She forced herself to think about something else, Patrick. She loved him, felt for him and hoped that they could help him and others with their research but it was going to take time to unravel the mysteries of the vampire brain. It was then that she realized that they should do a PET scan of a human brain. Basically the human brain and the vampire brain were similar in structure except that the vampire used much more of his brain than the human did. Her question was did they react in the same way when under stress. Unable to rest, she got onto her laptop and pulled up the PET scans of known violent offenders. The problem was that there were no before pictures but compared to a normal human brain there were some differences especially in the centers of the brain that controlled impulses and emotions. In the violent offenders these areas were sometimes much smaller in comparison to the normal ones. "What does this mean for a vampire brain?" she mumbled as she made notes on her laptop. ******* Rik and Luc had finally gotten settled in their home away from home. It was a large house with two wings that was located on a private beach. The nearest neighbor was three miles away giving them almost complete privacy. Each wing of the house was equipped with a small kitchen that was fully stocked, its own bathroom with a Jacuzzi, living room and two bedrooms. The wings were joined together by a common living room and a large fully stocked kitchen. Off to the side of the house was a Jacuzzi room that also held a small swimming pool. The previous owners of the house had been vampires so no major changes were required. The house also came complete with an intercom and sound system as well as each wing having its own stereo system all in all the brothers were pleased. They spent the first week exploring their surroundings but avoided going anywhere near the house down the beach but by the end of the week, Luc was dying to go out. "Rik let's go! I've had enough of this rest and relaxation shit!" "Then go." Rik replied not looking up from his book. "I want you to come with me; maybe we'll find a couple of willing human women." Luc said as he took the book out of Rik's hands. "Laisse-moi tranquille! - Leave me alone!" Rik protested. "English if you please." Luc said, "And I will leave you alone only if we go out for dinner." Rik rolled his eyes, what Luc promised was true, he wouldn't be left alone until he went to dinner with him. "Fine, let's go." Rik said standing up. "Excellent!" Luc exclaimed, "Where shall we go?" An hour later they were sitting at a table at a restaurant/ nightclub waiting for their drinks. Rik ignored the attention they attracted when they walked in while Luc soaked it up like a sponge stopping at tables to kiss the hands of any woman who happened to be sitting there. If they were particularly beautiful, he would add a comment, "Splendide- lovely" as he kissed the woman's hand. Rik found himself wishing that he had stayed home, he knew what was going to happen next, Luc would find two women; one for each of them and ask them if they wanted to take a walk. Before the walk was over, Luc's cock would be buried deep inside of one woman while Rik would try to find a way to extricate him from the other one. He enjoyed sex but on his terms it was something he and Luc had talked about several times and Luc just didn't get it. Rik no longer got angry with him and stopped trying to explain to him that his world didn't revolve around the next fuck, in Luc's mind he was caring for his brother. "Luc, please do not bring me a female." Rik said telepathically. "How long has it been?" Luc replied, "If my memory serves me, it has been more than two weeks." Rik didn't reply, it had been at least that long and maybe Luc was right, he needed to relax and sex always relaxed him. Luc took Rik's silence as consent and began to scan the room for likely candidates. His eyes landed on a pretty blonde sitting in a corner by herself and then disregarded her, instinct told him that she could be trouble but it was more than that, he didn't know what and he didn't want to know. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts as they were rarely wrong. ********* It was late by the time Veronica logged off from her laptop. She stood, stretched and walked over to the window. She took a deep breath inhaling the ocean air; she loved the smell and the sound of the ocean. She stood there for several minutes and thought about Patrick, he would be coming for the PET scan but she really wasn't expecting to find anything but they had to start somewhere. She wondered if her mate showed up if she would know him and him her, or even if he was vampire and.... "Alright, give, what's on your mind?" Vanessa asked. "Nothing, I just can't seem to settle down." "Ronnie, I know better so just tell me, you're going to anyway." Veronica hesitated, "I think I'm going crazy." "Ok.... And how is that different from any other day?" "Nessa! I'm serious!" Vanessa stopped smiling, "Ok, I'm sorry, what's wrong?" "I'm hearing a voice." "Just one?" "Just one and .... Nessa it keeps asking where I am." Veronica whispered. "Is it telling you to do things?" "No, but .... It sounds so... sad and ... never mind." "No not never mind, does it say anything else?" "No, it just says where are you?" It scared Vanessa that Veronica was so rattled; of the two of them she was the rock. "What does it sound like? I mean is it threatening?" Vanessa asked. "No, like I said, it sounds sad and lonely." "Have you answered it?" "Are you nuts? No! I don't know who or what it is." "Sorry, I was just asking." Vanessa said. "No, I'm sorry, it was a reasonable question; you don't think that I should answer it do you?" "No, not until we know more." Vanessa replied, "Can I ask a question?" "Shoot." "Why are you thinking about the mate thing so much?" "I don't know, maybe it's because of Uncle Patrick or maybe I'm ready to find him." Veronica replied. "Nessa?" "Hmmm?" "You really don't think about finding your mate?" "I do sometimes and like you I want what mom and dad have and I want babies but...." "But what?" Veronica asked. "What if I don't have a mate? What if I won't have a family?" "Of course you will!" Veronica said hugging Vanessa. "I don't know." Vanessa said softly. ******* Luc finally settled on two women who he thought were absolutely stunning. "I'll give you first pick, which one?" he asked telepathically. Rik looked at the women and while he agreed that they were beautiful, he thought them too thin. When he mentioned this to Luc, Luc sighed. "Rik just pick one, you're going to fuck her not take her home to mama." "I don't think that I want either of them." "Is that so?" Luc asked, "That must be why your cock is leaking, I can smell it." Luc was right, he needed release and his hand wasn't going to be adequate, it had been far too long for that. "The one on the left." Rik said. A few minutes later the women were sitting at their table completely charmed by the dark good looks of the brothers and the French accents. "So my lovelies, would you care to take a walk along the beach with us?" Luc asked. The women giggled and slid off of the bar stools indicating that they were willing. Luc took the blonde leaving Rik with the brunette that he had chosen. It wasn't long before Luc had already taken his partner in the opposite direction leaving Rik alone with .... "I do not know your name." he said. "Nina" "It is a pleasure to meet you." "Yeah you too, you really are shy aren't you?" she asked. "Excuse me?" Rik asked. "Your brother, he said that you were on the shy side." Nina said as she rubbed the front of his shorts. "Are you a ...." "No, I'm not a prostitute but I am horny." That did it, "Please excuse me." Rik said and walked away leaving Nina standing with her mouth open. Rik found Luc down the beach with his cock in his partner's mouth. 'Let's go." Rik said. "Not yet.... She ... oh ... she is not finished!" Rik turned around and walked away until he was out of sight and vanished home. He just couldn't bring himself to use women indiscriminately as Luc could and did. He wasn't celibate by any means but when he found his mate he wanted to be able to tell her that he exercised restraint and hadn't fucked his way through the centuries while he looked for her. "Where are you?" Rik asked the air, "I need you." ******* Veronica had just closed her eyes when she heard the voice asking where she was and then she heard the "I need you." She sat up in the bed and ran her hands through her hair; she almost responded and caught herself at the last minute. She waited several minutes and then lay back down, this time she slept until morning. ****** "Rik!" Luc bellowed as he stomped through the house. Rik heard him calling but didn't respond. It would serve him right to hunt the whole house looking for him. "There you are! Did you hear me calling for you?" "How could I not? I am sure that whoever lives down the beach heard you as well." Rik replied calmly. "Why did you leave? Was she not to your satisfaction?" "No, I do not care for women who think so little of themselves that they suck the cock of a stranger." Rik replied. "This is about your mate." Luc said understanding. "Luc, I do not begrudge your fucking all of the women that you want but that is not me, I want to find my mate and have as many children as the fates will allow us. When I find her, I want to be able to tell her that while I wasn't celibate that I didn't fuck everything with a mouth, two legs and breasts." "Do you really think that she will care?" Luc asked. "Maybe not but I do." Rik replied, "Luc for me it is about more than restraint, it is about respect for her but I ask you this, when you find your mate, what will you tell her when if she asks you how many women you've been with?" "Respect?" Luc laughed, "if you respected her as you say then you wouldn't fuck anyone, you would wait for her.' "You make a valid point." Rik conceded. "Rik...." "No, you are right, from this time until I find her, I will be with no one else." "You are not serious!" Luc exclaimed. "What if it is centuries until you find her?" Luc asked. "Then I shall get to know my hand quite well." Rik replied with a smile, "and I would suggest that you start exercising some restraint, your mate may not be as understanding as you think." ******* Vanessa met Veronica at the lab where she was already checking the PET scan machine the supplies for the blood draw out. "Remember..." "I got it already!" Veronica snapped and was immediately contrite, "I'm sorry, I didn't rest well." Vanessa was about to say something when Eustace and Patrick walked in. "This is some place!" Eustace said looking around. "We like it, Uncle Patrick your office and bedroom are through those doors if you want to take a peek." Vanessa said, "We need a few more minutes." Veronica looked over at Patrick, somehow she thought that he might understand why she was thinking so much about a mate since he had been single for so long but there was no time now, he was meeting his mate for dinner, she would have to call him later. Veronica brought up the idea of a pet scan while he was angry and was shot down. She let the idea go but wished that he had just a few minutes to talk with her. She was so happy for him and loved seeing him happy and at peace for the first time since he almost raped that woman. She and Vanessa wanted to meet her but hadn't asked yet. "Let him have some time with her." Vanessa suggested. Once Eustace and Patrick were gone, each girl made their notes. "Let's compare notes by the end of the week." Veronica suggested. "We won't have Uncle Patrick's input but alright." Vanessa agreed. They left the lab relatively early for them and decided to sit on the beach, "You know we need to get Victoria up here, we promised her it would be soon." Veronica said. "I know. I miss the little brat too." Vanessa agreed, "By the way, someone moved into that house down the beach a week or so ago." "And you know this how?" "I ran into the groundskeeper at the grocery store the other night." Vanessa replied. "Well don't stop there! Who is it?" Veronica asked. "Don't know, he said that he signed some kind of privacy agreement." "Male or female?" Veronica asked. "That comes under the privacy agreement I think." Vanessa replied. Veronica looked over at Vanessa who looked back at her. "No." "Come on let's go look." "No!" Vanessa replied. "Chicken!" Veronica said making clucking sounds and flapping her arms like wings. "And just how would it look if the daughters of Ethan and Katrina Sinclaire got caught trespassing and got their asses tossed in jail?" Vanessa asked. "Wait! That house was owned by vampires! Do you suppose that vampires moved in?" Veronica asked. "All the more reason to stay away, if they are vampire they may not be of the friendly variety." Vanessa replied. "Fine, then I'll go by myself!" Veronica said standing up and heading down the beach. She grinned when she heard Vanessa running after her. ******* Rik sat by the Jacuzzi reading while Luc played the baby grand piano in the living room. Ever since the night that they had gone to the bar, Luc stuck close to home, whether he had a change of heart regarding his sexual activities Rik didn't know and didn't ask but he could tell that Luc was getting bored. "Why don't we go out tomorrow night?" Rik asked. "What would you like to do?" Luc asked. "How about a movie? We could movie hop like we did when we were younger." Rik replied. "Good Idea! There are several movies that I would like to see!" "Luc, listen, you can do whatever you want," "Who says that I haven't been?" Luc replied with a grin. "You bring them here?" Rik asked alarmed. "I erased their memories and I don't bring them in the house." "But we agreed, no women here! They could be hunters...." "Rik......" Both brothers stopped and looked toward the window. "Someone is coming." Luc said telepathically. As one the brothers vanished out to the front of the house and looked down the beach. "Is it one of your women?" Rik asked telepathically. "Not unless I had two of them." Luc replied. "Twins." "They are not human." Rik said. "We should...." "Let them be." Rik said and vanished. Luc followed Rik's lead and met him in the kitchen. "Why did we let them go?" "We don't know who they are and I for one don't want to take a chance that they belong to someone." Rik replied. "I see your point but what if they come back?" "Then we confront them and inform them that this is private property." Rik replied. "Or we could introduce ourselves and invite them in for a drink." Luc said hopefully. "We'll see." Rik replied. ******* Vanessa caught up with Veronica and passed her now totally into the game, she stopped when she realized that Veronica wasn't following her. She doubled back to find Veronica staring in the direction of the house. "What's wrong?" She asked. "I... nothing, let's go back." "Go back? You were the one who insisted that we check things out." Vanessa replied. "I know but.... I want to go back." Vanessa shrugged and headed back to their home; during the walk back she kept stealing glances at Veronica. "Ronnie, why are you so nervous?" "I don't know, I felt something but not a bad something." "And you didn't want to find out what it was?" Vanessa asked surprised. "Not this time, Nessa, I heard the voice again." "Did it say the same thing?" "Yes but this time it said something else too; it said that it needed me." "But still no commands?" "No, do you think that I should talk to Eustace?" Vanessa thought a minute, "If you're this concerned then maybe you should." ******* Rik kept looking down the beach, he knew exactly who had been here, his mate and she was vampire. The other woman with her was a twin and he suspected that she was Luc's mate, why he didn't sense it he didn't know but he wasn't going to say anything just yet. He had finally found her and that was enough for now, he could now do what Luc said that he needed to do and that was relax. He had the feeling that it wouldn't be too long before he met her face to face. As he turned away from the window, he sent out one last thought for the evening. "Finally I have found you." ******* Victoria stopped dead in her tracks and turned around almost expecting someone other than Vanessa to be behind her. "What?" Vanessa asked when she caught up to her. "Nothing, let's go home." "Ronnie what's the matter?" Veronica didn't reply bit took off at a full run leaving a very confused Vanessa behind.

He loses track of time lying on the rough granite ground, keeping his eyes closed and embracing the way the chill cuts hard into his injured cheek. The door opens, maybe randomly, maybe regularly. There’s no food, just fists and booted feet and the damned camcorder with its red blinking light. They’ve considered breaking bones more than once, but when they actually get around to it they realise his ribs are already cracked from Before and decide to have a little mercy. One of them, though, particularly sadistic, likes to hit him on his bad shoulder, which he can’t even feel anymore. He’s lost feeling in his limbs and sometimes he feels boilingly hot and bitingly cold all over, but he’s still alive, which means they haven’t had him for more than one month. Still, when the door finally, finally gets blown off its hinges, he finds himself crying - again like a weak, pathetic, useless creature - because it’s been too long. Someone walks over and helps him out and up and hugs him. He wishes he can be awake for long enough to enjoy it a little more, but too soon and it’s over. When he wakes up, someone comes to see him in the hospital ward. He knows it’s not Howard, but they smell familiar. He wishes he can open his eyes to see but he can’t. Everything hurts and when they touch his forehead their hand is so cold he wonders if they need a coat. It’s December, after all. Or is it already January? His heart jumps in his dented rib cage when he realises he’s missed so much school. What would Howard say? After more drifting, Tony gradually finds the strength to pull his eyelids open. Blearily, he blinks at the woman by his bed. At first he may have wished it were his Mama, but she has rather blonde hair instead of the rich brown of his Mama. He closes his eyes again, energy spent, and exhales through his nose to communicate that he’s awake. “Hi, honey,” she says, and the cold, cold hand comes back to rest on his forehead. His teeth chatter and he tries drawing closer to himself. She pulls the blanket up around him and it feels just a bit better. Thanks anyway, he thinks. She continues talking: “Your father couldn’t come to see you.” Of course. “How’re you feeling?” I’m feeling lucky, he thinks. Any lacerations, bruises and broken bones he has will be linked to the kidnappers immediately. Nobody will ask him questions that make him slack-jawed and cause him to end up bleeding into the mattress at night. He doesn’t say anything, but tries to shrug and that’s a bad idea because his shoulder flames, throbs in protest and he cries out, his throat hurts. He wishes she would leave him alone. “Don’t move, sweetheart.” Not planning to. “Do you know who I am?” When he manages to shake his head, “I didn’t think so. My name is Virginia; I’m your father’s assistant.” He wishes she’d stop calling Howard his father. It makes his skin crawl. “You, well, you can call me Pepper.” Tony forces his eyes open. She’s come closer, and he can see a pretty face, large eyes and freckles. She looks young. “Pep-?” he croaks out, the second half of the name lost to his frayed voice. He sounds disgusting. If he were her he would get up and go. She smiles. Her eyes are wet. “Yeah, it’s my nickname. From my boyfriend.” Seeing him frown in inquisition she continues, “He’s in the Army; he’s called James.” James. Like Bucky Barnes. Tony swallows, making his throat twinge half-heartedly. He reaches for something and finds himself fisting his fingers in the cool sheets, thinking of how much school has passed without him, thinking of Howard, how angry he’ll be, how his eyes grow dark with fury like he’s seen so many times before- Pepper curls her hand in his hair. It feels strange. New. Nice. She starts talking, again, louder, “D’you know what Jim’s like? He doesn’t like his real name, so he goes by Jim, by the way. He’s one of the best people you’ll meet - yeah, you’ll meet him, I promise. Why haven’t I ever seen you before, Tony? I spend so much time in and around your house… Are you out a lot? At school? Or maybe, you like going somewhere? The club? The shops?” “The- the library,” Tony chokes out. Pepper moves closer until he’s pressed against her side, breathing against her shoulder. Her hand doesn’t leave his hair, and he’s idly grateful. “You like going to the library?” she says in surprise. “Well, studious, aren’t you?” She flicks his cheek fondly, almost like he’s known her his whole life. He doesn’t like it much, but he stays still. Why is she acting like this? It’s not even part of her job description. “I’m tired,” he says out loud without thinking. “I know. Go to sleep, Tony,” and now both hands are in his hair and sleep comes not long after.     “Pepper” stays with him for the whole week. Sometimes she brings her laptop and works when she thinks he’s asleep. He likes watching her; she gives him a sense of normalcy. Once he hears her talking quietly to someone outside and he wishes Jim would come in so he can see what it looks like to be the ‘best person in the world’ to her. If he can’t have it, he can at least see it. At the end of the week, Howard comes to see him. Pepper smiles reassuringly at him - she’s goes from pretty to beautiful when she smiles, in his opinion, does she smile at Jim much? - and Howard sits down in the plastic hospital chair next to him. Tony is now lucid enough to sit up, grip his blanket tightly, and look at his lap. “We’re in public,” Howard says quietly. Tony jerks his chin up at once to look at him. His eyes must be wide and frightened because Howard leers. “Having fun away from home, ungrateful brat?” “No, sir.” Howard stands. “You’re coming home tomorrow,” he says in a more authoritative tone. Tony looks up and sucks his stomach in as Howard leans down threateningly. “We can continue medical treatment at home.” “Please, sir,” Tony tries desperately. He wants to spend more time here, with Pepper, away, away, away. Howard sneers and Tony looks back down, repressing his flinch as the door slams.

1.   Angst Sousuke knows it’s a sham for the cameras—just a part of being a professional athlete and national celebrity and it doesn’t mean anything—but he can’t help the clench in his chest when the pretty AKB48 alum puts her arm around Haru’s waist as they both put on smiles for the viewers watching at home. He lasts all of half a minute before he angrily powers off his television.   2.   AU Yamazaki from Samezuka pulls up in front of the Iwatobi campus on a motorcycle one day. Why, is anyone’s guess. There’s a small crowd gathered by it, oohing and ahhing at its shiny chrome and leather, at the seductive purr of its engine as it idles, and at its rider, decked out in worn jeans and a military-style jacket. Because leather would be too typical, probably. Haru rolls his eyes. Sometimes he wonders why Yamazaki doesn’t just come out and say what he wants already. Pussyfooting is so troublesome. “What kind of bike is it?” one of the onlookers asks, admiration making her voice breathy. Haru’s jaw clenches in annoyance and he mutters before he can stop himself, “It’s a Kawasaki Z1.” He can’t tell what year the model is, only knows it’s sleek and, judging from the grease stains on Yamazaki’s white shirt, recently restored.  Yamazaki’s eyebrow arches. Impressed or challenging, who can say. “That’s right. With a transverse four cylinder engine. It’s fast, too.” In spite of the tension and his earlier exasperation, Haru feels the pull of a smirk on his mouth. “I like it fast.” Then the tension snaps, and Yamazaki’s straddling the bike, scooting up on the seat. “Hop on.”       3. Crack The last thing Sousuke expected to see upon opening the bathroom door is also, ironically, what he’d always wondered about Haru since he met him. It’s always been a kind of joke, though—never once did he truly believe that Haru was a goddamn merman. Yet, there he is. Haru looks calm as can be, his bared upper torso partially submerged in the bathwater while his tail—bright and scaly, the color of seafoam—remains draped over the edge of the tub like a gown over a chair. “If you’re going to just stand there, Yamazaki,” he drawls, dumping a container of salt into the water, his fluke flickering happily to the added stimuli, “then close the door—you’re letting all the cold air in.”     4. Crossover If Sousuke hadn’t intercepted the thrown volleyball with his hand, it could have very well clobbered Haru right in the head. The culprit, a short and very apologetic looking boy with hair the color of the sun at dawn, comes bouncing up to them to retrieve the ball. He trembles beneath Sousuke’s glare. “S-s-sorry about that,” he manages, “I thought you were…my…um, s-someone else!”     5. First Time Team Japan won its first ever World Championship gold in the 4x100 medley relay. Of course, there are celebrations to be had but once the closing ceremonies are over, Haru heads straight to Sousuke’s hotel room.     6. Fluff Sousuke is in dire need of a haircut. Haru notices this as he stands beside him at the kitchen sink. Haru is on dry-duty tonight, and as he waits for Sousuke to hand over the next plate for him to wipe, he stares at the taller man’s profile, noticing the way his black fringe hangs in his eyes with the longest strips sticking to the strong bridge of his nose. Between scrubs, Sousuke swipes at the offending tendrils with the back of a soapy hand, only for them to return a breath later. It’s obviously bothering him. So Haru, quiet and without warning, reaches up and combs the hair back for him with delicate fingers.     7. Humor Haru steadies the camera onto the mini-tripod, making sure the lens isn’t obscured by the clothes in the laundry basket he hides it in. With the tiniest of smiles, he hurries out of the bathroom. Just in time, too, as Sousuke exits the shower in the next moment and proceeds as usual to the vanity to comb his hair. Haru watches with bated breath through a crack in the door as Sousuke picks up the blow dryer and turns it on. A large cloud of white flour shoots out from the vents and all over Sousuke’s hair and face. “Haru!” And that’s Haru’s cue to take off like a bat out of hell. His only regret is that in doing so, he can’t witness the moment when Sousuke will eventually run into the sticky plastic wrap he’d placed across the door frame. Well, not in person, anyway. The camera will capture the rest.     8. Hurt/Comfort The nurse offers Haru a sympathetic look as she leaves the room, allowing him to enter. Inside, Sousuke’s laid up in the bed, hooked to an IV, his right shoulder covered with gauze bandages and medical tape. Same as he’s been for the past few visits. “Hey.” Sousuke says nothing, though the glassy look in his eyes fades into something lighter and softer when he turns his head to regard his visitor. Haru sets a white plastic bag down, taking out from within some cartons and napkins and chopsticks and arranging them neatly on Sousuke’s overbed table. “Only chicken today, no pork.” Sousuke grunts, disapproving. “Don’t be such a baby. Here,” Haru captures a piece of breaded cutlet with chopsticks, blows softly on it to cool it off, then holds it up to Sousuke’s mouth, “ah~n.” Sousuke grunts again, louder than before, but he obliges anyway. He always does.     9. Smut Nude, Haru slides to his knees, taking Sousuke’s left foot in his hands. Thoroughly and with great care he washes it, letting the precious water drip over it first then massaging the oil into the sole before reverently kissing the arch, his lips trailing up to worship each toe. Sousuke looks passive but he visibly squirms in his seat on the bed, the heel of his palm rubbing between his thighs and the other pulling tight at the sheets. Relentless, Haru pursues his task to the other foot, making the other man dissolve into low hisses and groans with just a few slides of his tongue, until Sousuke can’t stand it anymore and makes him come up.  There, with Haru’s hands braced against the mattress, he moves his own feet, toes dancing along Sousuke’s heavy erection, catching its warmth between his soles and rubbing in long, slow strokes. Panting and trembling, they ride it out, together.     10. UST It figures that the one day Makoto doesn’t knock is also the day Sousuke pins Haru against yet another vertical surface. Albeit for completely different reasons this time around. He does, however, call out for Haru, which gives them just enough time to separate and readjust their clothes. “Is everything o—” “We’re fine.” “—kay.”

"Well?" Vanessa said, "aren't you going to introduce us to your..... Friends?" Her eyes never left the faces of the two women standing by their table. Rik and Luc looked at each other and then at the two women. "Yeah Luc, who are these two?" Frannie asked. "Damn Luc and his cock!" Rik thought. "We're waiting." Veronica said impatiently. "Vanessa and Veronica meet Nina and her friend Frannie." Rik said, "We met them here several days ago and they joined us for drinks." "That isn't all we joined them for although Rik was on the shy side and left me high and dry." Nina remarked. For once it was Veronica having to control Vanessa who was about to stand up and confront the scantily clad woman. Vanessa looked at Luc, her eyes filled with anger. "You hired a hooker?" she asked. "No! I didn't pay her......" Luc stopped talking, it was clear that he had been with this woman. "And you," Veronica chimed in looking at Rik, "did you screw this.... This ... whatever in the hell she is?" "No, I never touched her, I swear to you." Rik said relieved that he left before anything happened with Nina. "So what is it you do?" Vanessa asked, "Do you cruise the bars looking for men?" she asked coldly. "Look bitch...." was all Frannie got out. Vanessa had moved so fast that the woman didn't see her until she was in her face. Vanessa's blue eyes blazed in anger as she moved so close to the woman that all she had to do was purse her lips and she could have kissed her. It took Veronica several seconds to get over her shock, she had never seen Vanessa act like this and if she didn't do something Vanessa was going to slap the woman. The brothers looked at each other and then back at the scene unfolding in front of them. "Bitch?" Vanessa hissed, "Look...." "Nessa stand down." Veronica said softly, "both of them are skanks and not worth it." She and Vanessa stood side by side but it was Veronica who spoke. "Get away from this table or I'll kick your asses myself." Nina apparently was the brains of the two began to pull on Frannie's arm. "I told you that we should have left them alone, now let's go." Frannie didn't move but continued to stare until Vanessa took a step toward her. By this time their section of the restaurant was silent waiting to see who was going to throw the first punch. Frannie finally gave in and allowed herself to be led away from the table. They passed the manager on their way out ignoring his angry stare; he had decided that the next time they came he wouldn't allow them in. This wasn't the first time that they had caused a problem. He rushed over to the table where Vanessa and Veronica were getting ready to leave. "Please my apologies! Stay and have dinner on the house." "No thank you, we've lost our appetite." Veronica said as she reached for her bag and grabbed Vanessa's while she was at it. "Please don't leave." Rik said, "Give us a chance to explain." "Explain what?" Veronica asked, "How you know those women?" Now Rik was angry. "Excuse me, but when we came here we had no idea that we would find you...." Rik stopped talking when he saw that the manager was still there and listening. "Excuse us please and bring fresh drinks." he snapped. "Please both of you sit down." he said his tone calm but firm. Veronica looked at Vanessa who nodded at her and they walked out of the restaurant without looking back. Rik looked at Luc, anger in his eyes. "Do you see what your indiscriminant fucking has done? My mate is angry with me and I have done nothing to deserve her anger!" "Rik I'm sorry but I didn't think that I'd see those two again and you forget my mate is angry too!" "As she should be!" Rik snapped. "What do we do now?" Luc asked. "What is this we?" Rik asked. 'Like it or not your mate thinks that you've been using prostitutes so we're in this together." Luc replied. Rik glared at Luc, stood up and threw money on the table and left. When he got outside Nina and Frannie were waiting for them. ******** Vanessa had never been so embarrassed; she had never acted like that in her life and hoped that she never did again. "Ronnie, did you hear me?" she asked for the hundredth time? "I acted like a....a .. Idiot!" Veronica let her vent. Truth be told she was as shocked as Vanessa had been; she had no idea that her sweet mild mannered sister was capable of such anger and jealousy. She was jealous as well but shit, Vanessa was going to beat the one called Frannie to the ground if she hadn't been stopped. "Nessa, you didn't act like an idiot." Veronica assured her when she could get a word in, "You were having a normal reaction to another woman who had been with your mate." "Your mate was with someone too and you didn't act like that." Vanessa retorted. "Oh I was jealous alright but Nessa, Rik wasn't lying when he said that he didn't touch the one named Nina." "Why did you leave then?" Vanessa asked. "Because you are my sister and best friend silly." Veronica replied, "I wasn't about to let you come home alone and besides, he isn't going anywhere." "What about Luc?" Vanessa asked. "I don't know, what about him?" "Did you notice anything about them?" Vanessa asked. "Aside from the fact that they're both hot?" Vanessa rolled her eyes and in spite of her embarrassment laughed, "Yes aside from that." "I don't.....they're our opposites!" Veronica exclaimed. "What do you suppose it means?" "I don't know but I hope that I don't go around wanting to beat up every woman who looks at him." Vanessa replied. "Sounds like you're ready to talk to him." Veronica said. "Not yet, let him sweat a little." Vanessa replied much to Veronica's surprise. "Well damn! Look at you." she quipped. ******* "Go away." Rik said when Nina called his name. "Hey look, I'm sorry! I tried to stop her." "So you came with her even though you knew what she was going to do?" he asked. He could hear Luc talking to Frannie who apparently wasn't taking no for an answer. He turned his attention back to Nina. "I am going to give you a small piece of advice." he said, "this game that you and your friend play is a very dangerous one, you should stop playing it before one or both of you gets hurt." Nina looked away and then back at Rik, "You know what? You're right and again I'm really sorry that we messed up your date." Rik nodded and watched Nina go to drag Frannie away from Luc. He knew that Luc must have compelled her because of how easily she allowed herself to be led away. They looked around and vanished to their home, each to his part of the house. Rik plopped down on the bed that he had hoped to be sharing with Veronica after their meeting and became angry with Luc all over. It didn't matter that Veronica believed him when he said that he hadn't touched the woman it was the fact that he had been dragged into Luc's drama. "Damn it!" he cursed as he thought about how long he should wait before reaching out to his mate again. What he was almost certain of was the fact that their mates were joined at the hip and that Veronica wasn't going to do anything until Luc and Vanessa worked out their issues. ******* Luc paced back and forth across his bedroom cursing at himself for his lack of foresight. When he and Rik were working on projects together his shortsightedness was an asset but in life it was his downfall and Rik had warned him several times but now it was too late to listen. He wondered what Vanessa's family would think of him and what she would tell them. Both sisters were very angry and that was no way to start a relationship. He wanted to talk to Rik and apologize but knew better than to approach him now, he was much too angry and rightfully so. It was one thing to fuck up his life but another thing entirely when it was Rik's and his mate's. One thing was clear, he couldn't and wouldn't let Rik suffer for his shortcomings, if he had to he'd go talk to Veronica himself then that's what he would do. Having made that decision, he vanished from his room to Vanessa and Veronica's house. "Who goes there?" a voice called from the darkness. "Fuck!" Luc swore under his breath, he hadn't thought about the possibility of guards although he should have given who they were. Luc vanished as quickly as he could back into his own room where he resumed pacing. He didn't notice Rik sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I went to talk to your mate to tell her that you did nothing wrong." "You what?" Rik asked incredulous. "There is no point to having your mate angry at you too..." "You really don't think do you?" Rik asked. "Veronica already knows that I did nothing wrong!" "But she left..." "In support of her sister." Rik interrupted, "The problem is this, until you fix things with Vanessa there is no me and Veronica unless I can change her mind." "How do I do that?" Luc asked. He really was at a loss as to what to do. All of his relationships had been one night stands so there was never a need for him to think about the other person's feelings. "How in the hell should I know?" Rik shot back, "but whatever it is you're thinking of doing do it fast." ******* Ethan went back into the house and made a phone call. He wanted to know who lived in the house down the beach from Vanessa and Veronica. "Call me back with the information." he said and hung up. Veronica came in at the end of the phone call and wondered who he had been talking to. "I want to know who moved into that house down the way from you." "Why?" Veronica asked. "While you were in the kitchen someone was out front, a vampire. When I called out to him he took off." Ethan replied. "What's going on? Vanessa asked. "Dad felt someone in the front yard." Veronica explained, "He wants to know who lives in the house down the beach." Ethan looked at Vanessa and then Veronica, something was going on. They both seemed nervous somehow and for Veronica that was something new. He didn't ask taking the same position that Patrick did, they were grown women and knew that they could come to him with anything. If he thought for one second that they were in trouble or in danger he would have pressed the issue. "Umm dad, we know who lives in that house." Veronica said. "You do? Who is it?" "Rik and Luc Gabriel, they're from France and are here on a year's vacation." she replied. "Have you met them?' Ethan asked. "We... we had drinks with them earlier this evening." Veronica replied. "I see." Ethan said, "Is there any reason why one of them would be loitering in your front yard?" Vanessa and Veronica looked at each other and shook their heads no, as far as they were concerned they were telling the truth. Ethan looked at each of them a moment longer and made another phone call. "Bernie, I want a couple of guards here at Vanessa and Veronica's house, visible. How soon can they be here? Fifteen? I'll wait." "Dad, we don't need guards." Vanessa said. "Until I know more about these brothers you're getting guards." Ethan said in a tone of voice that they recognized. It was the "Do not even think of arguing with me voice." He didn't use it often but when he did the wise thing to do was to shut up and listen. Vanessa was thinking about telling him that the brothers were their mates but saw the panicked expression on Veronica's face. If they told him now he would insist on meeting them right then and Vanessa and Luc had yet to talk. "Alright if it'll make you feel better." Veronica said. "It isn't about me feeling better at least not entirely." he replied, 'It's about you being safe and a promise that me and your mother made to you. Like it or not you're still our little girls and until I know more about your neighbors the guards stay." Ethan looked toward the front door just as someone knocked, "They're here." He said as he walked to the door. "Graham and Lena, these are my daughters Vanessa and Veronica." Ethan said, "You don't need to follow them personally unless you feel that you need to and in that case you are to call me immediately." "Dad this really isn't....." Ethan gave Veronica a look that silenced her. "As I was saying, they are able to protect themselves but I want them to have extra protection for a short time." Both vampires nodded at Vanessa and Veronica and then Ethan before vanishing. Ethan looked at his daughters and smiled. "I know that you think that I'm being over protective but indulge me alright? And by the way, your lab is being watched too." "Dad!" both of them said at the same time. "Just teasing!" he said laughing. "Hey, you never told us why you came over." Vanessa said. "I need a reason to visit my children?" Ethan said. "Well no, it's just that you don't usually just pop in like this." Vanessa replied. "True but here's the reason why I just popped in, your mother doesn't know I'm here. I want you to help me plan a birthday party for her." "Ummm dad, I don't think ....." "I know that she says that she doesn't want a party but I think she'd like it." Ethan said. "Dad, I think that you'd better think about this.... Is it going to be a surprise party? If it is remember what happened the last time?" Veronica asked. "Alright so she threw up, so we won't make it a surprise party." "Why don't you do what you always do? Take her to a nice dinner and one of those art shows that she likes?" Vanessa asked. "Because it's always what we do, I want something different this year." Ethan replied. "Tell you what, let me and Nessa put our heads together and see what we can come up other than a party. Her birthday isn't for another two months so we have time." "Dad?" Vanessa called shyly, "could you call first the next time?" The question caught him off guard and he realized that she was right, the opportunity to see them had come up unexpectedly and he just took off without thinking. "Of course, I apologize." he said embarrassed. "No problem." Veronica said kissing his cheek. Vanessa kissed him next and whispered in his ear, "We love you papa." "I love you too and be careful." and then he was gone. Vanessa looked at Veronica both of them thinking the same thing; it wouldn't have been a good thing if Ethan had just dropped in on them if their mates were there. "I wonder which of the two was outside." Vanessa asked. "My guess?" Veronica asked, "Luc." "You're probably right." Vanessa agreed. "Nessa look, you and Luc need to talk, I have a feeling that he has quite a bit to tell you but in the meantime, I'm going to at least talk to Rik telepathically." Vanessa blew out her breath, "I'll talk to him tonight." ******** Rik went back to his side of the house no longer angry at Luc; he had finally understood what he had been trying to tell him for centuries. It was too bad that it took finding his mate to bring it home to him but that was his issue. He was going to pursue his mate no matter what Luc decided to do. Rik stripped and lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and whispered Veronica's name jumping when she actually responded. "I am very sorry about tonight." he said. "I know, how's Luc?" "Upset and angry at himself." "Was he here earlier tonight?" "Oui-yes, he wanted to talk to you." "Me? Why me?" Veronica asked. "He wanted to tell you that I did nothing wrong." "He almost got caught; my dad was here and sensed him so now we have guards." "Your father was there?" "Yes, why?" "What would have happened if we came home with you?" Rik asked. "It wouldn't have been pretty." Veronica replied with a small laugh, "You don't know my father." "I know what I have read and I watched several videos of him." Rik said, "He is a dangerous vampire." "Not to those that he loves." Veronica said. "What will he think of me?" "I think that he might be wary at first oh and by the way he's having you investigated." "Investigated? Why?" "If you knew our family history you wouldn't have to ask." Veronica replied. "Of course I understand." Rik replied. He looked down at himself to see his cock standing straight up pointing at the ceiling. "Veronica, are you alone?" "I'm in my room why?" "Are you clothed?' "Yes," Veronica replied wondering why he was asking such strange questions. "I am not." "You am not what?" Veronica asked. "Clothed, I am lying naked on my bed." Veronica's breath caught and she was suddenly too warm. "I am thinking of you, how I wish that you were on the bed with me." he said, his voice low and seductive, "Would you like to hear what I would be doing to you?" "I.... no!" "Really?" he asked, "You do not wish to hear how I would start with your beautiful lips? How I would kiss them and nip at them so that there would be just a hint of pain but mostly pleasure?" Veronica heart pounded, she did want to heat about all of the things that he could do to make her body sing but then she would be left unsatisfied. "Veronica? Are you still clothed?" "Yes." "Why is that?" he asked. "I want you to be as naked as I am." It was getting to be too much, he had to stop or else..... The next thing she knew she was naked and on her bed. "You are ready for me?" he asked. "I.... I'm naked." she replied not believing she was going to have the equivalent of telephone sex. "Good, now close your eyes and listen to my voice." "Rik....." "Shhh, just listen for a moment." he whispered, "I am kissing you, the kisses are so light that you are not even sure that you have been kissed." Veronica gasped as she could have sworn she felt something just barely touch her lips. "Did you feel that? Rik asked as he visualized kissing her again. "How are you doing this?" she asked. "It is something that Luc and I have always been able to do, you can do it as well." Rik replied as in his mind his lips slid across her lips and to her jaw line. "Do you like that?" he asked as he kissed her cheeks and then her neck never losing contact with her. Veronica was fully aware that her nipples were hard and that she was wet. She had to wonder what it would be like to actually feel his lips on her skin. It had to be nothing short of incredible if it felt this good and he wasn't even touching her. "Veronica, try it, just close your eyes and visualize me and what you want to do to me." Rik said. Veronica closed her eyes and imagined herself kissing him, she heard him moan in her mind telling her that she had been successful. "You learn quickly." He said as he broke the kiss and visualized taking a hard nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. Veronica bit her lip to hold back her moan. As good as this was, Veronica wanted the real thing. "May I come to you?" Rik asked. ********* Vanessa was going to knock on Veronica's door but stopped when she heard her moan. "Just great!" she grumbled as she walked away. She went to her room, lay on her bed and became restless. She got up, went to her window and called out to Luc. "Vanessa?" "It's me and you had better start explaining." "I am so sorry for tonight. I didn't think that we would see those women again. It was a one time thing....." "Stop! You mean that you picked them up?" "Yes, we haven't been here for long and.... Vanessa, I cannot and will not lie to you. I haven't been .... Celibate." "How old are you and Rik?" Vanessa asked. "Four-hundred give or take a few years." "Alright, I don't expect celibacy then but I think that there's more." Luc hesitated, "There is." he admitted. Vanessa's heart pounded, she hoped to god that Luc wasn't one of those that she was studying. She took a deep breath and asked the hard question. "Luc, are you and your brother rapists?" There was a shocked silence. "No! Neither of us has ever forced a woman even by compulsion! Why would you think such a thing?" he demanded, his feelings hurt. "Luc I'm sorry but I had to ask!" "I am your mate! I would never hurt you or any other woman in that manner!" "I get it and I believe you.... You don't know my family history do you?" "I am well aware of who your father is if that is what you are referring to." "I meant personal history." Vanessa said. Luc hesitated, "No I am afraid that I do not keep up with things like that." and then regretted not listening when Rik tried to tell him about the family. Vanessa gave him a quick overview of her family. "That's partly why Veronica and I went into genetics, our uncle just found his mate and he knew her as soon as she saw her but it didn't take away the rage..." Vanessa stopped herself, it had just occurred to her that maybe he didn't want to be a part of this crazy family of hers. "Vanessa? Why did you stop talking?" "It just occurred to me that I was really pissed off at you and after hearing what I just told you that you might not want to be a part of this family." she replied. "Vanessa, it is I who is not worthy. Rik tried to warn me but I didn't listen to him." "Warned you about what?" "Vanessa, I .... I know that you say that you don't expect celibacy but ..... I was very active sexually, even after we arrived to this country." "I don't ....." "I fucked anyone who would have me." Luc said. "Luc tried to warn me that one day that I would have to answer to my mate and I didn't believe him." "What did you believe?" Vanessa asked. "That she would understand and that she would just have to accept my sexual activity without question." "In other words you're a male version of those women." Vanessa said. "You are not being fair!" Luc said, "Surely you didn't expect me to remain celibate until I found you." "I'm not being fair?" Vanessa asked, "I'm not the one who had two women show up during our first meeting as mates! And I wasn't expecting a virgin but you're the one who said you fucked anyone who would have you." "I know what I said!" Luc snapped, "I suppose you're going to tell me that you've been celibate?" "As a matter of fact I am!" Vanessa snapped back, "I haven't been with anyone in over two years and it was a long time even before that. Just how many women are we talking about?" "It doesn't matter....." "The hell it doesn't!" "Vanessa, I apologize for my actions, can we start over?" But she was gone. ******* "Veronica, may I come to you?' Rik asked again. "I want to but we can't" "Why not?" "Because I have to make sure Vanessa is alright." "Vanessa and Luc are adults; their problem is for them to work out and has nothing to do with us." Rik was right and she knew it. "I understand that she is your twin and that you love her and that you are concerned for her as I am Luc but Veronica this is our time. We can only be there to support them but we cannot put our lives on hold while they figure theirs out." "You're right but Vanessa and I have always done everything together." Rik knew when he was fighting a losing battle and made a suggestion. "Talk with Vanessa." he said, "And see what she thinks, I would wager that she would tell you what I am." "What's the big secret anyway?" Veronica asked. "That isn't for me to say but know that Vanessa is safe with Luc, he would never hurt her or allow anyone else to harm her." "I wasn't worried about that." Veronica said getting under the sheets and snuggling in and yawning. Her nipples were no longer hard and her body had cooled during their talk. "I'll talk to Vanessa and I'll let you know. I know that isn't what you want to hear but it's the best that I can do right now, you understand don't you?" "I understand and even agree to a point but may I take you to dinner?" "Do you promise to keep your hands and your thoughts to yourself?" Veronica asked. "Rik laughed, "I can only promise to try, you are after all a beautiful woman who is meant to be touched." "I suppose that's as good as I'm going to get?" Veronica asked. "I am afraid so." Rik replied, "So will you have dinner with me?" "Alright but not at the same place." Veronica replied. "You choose the place and I will come for you at six." Veronica cut off communication because she fell asleep even though she hadn't planned on it; she woke up when she felt Vanessa sit on her bed. ******* Vanessa was still upset with Luc or more accurately his confession. She didn't answer him when he asked about starting over. What she didn't understand is why she felt so betrayed and she was hoping that Veronica would shed some light on the subject. Veronica woke up and moved over to make room for Vanessa. "Are you alright?' she asked. "I guess, are you and Rik alright?" "Yeah, we are... we're going out to dinner tonight." "Ronnie, if I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?" "Don't I always?" "Yeah you do." Vanessa agreed. She told Veronica about her talk with Luc, "Why am I so mad about this?" she asked. "You want honesty right?" Veronica asked. "Yes." "Remember when we were little girls and we would plan our weddings?" "Sure, you were going to wear some atrocious shade of yellow-what's that have to do with anything?" "Do you remember how you described your mate? He was going to be handsome-he is, he was going to be fun-I think he is and he wouldn't touch anyone, he was going to wait for you and you were going to wait for him. The problem as I see it is that neither thing happened. You weren't promiscuous by any stretch of the imagination but I think what's got you riled is that you showed restraint whether it was intentional or not and Luc didn't think about how his actions would affect you even though you hadn't found each other yet. In effect he destroyed your image of a perfect mate, or what you considered to be a perfect mate." "But there were so many women!" Vanessa exclaimed. "I'm not saying that he was right but I am saying that he didn't hide it from you and that should count for something." Veronica replied. Vanessa blew out a breath, "I know that you're right .... But its papa, he's going to have a fit." "Why? Is there something that you haven't told me?" "No, it's just that you know how protective he is and before you say it I understand why." "True which is why we tell him together and we prepare the guys as much as we can." Veronica said, "Now go make up with Luc so you can go to dinner with us." ******* Rik watched Luc as he sat down, stood up and sat down again. "She was that angry?" he asked. "She was how do they say? Pissed off?" Luc replied, "I apologized and asked for another chance to begin again and she did not respond." "Maybe she just needs time after all no one wants to hear that their mate has serviced hundreds of women." Luc replied. "Where are things between you and Veronica?" "We talked quite a bit and we are going out to dinner tonight." "She agreed to go without her sister?" "I am going to tell you what I told her and that is whatever issues you are having are between you and Vanessa and we will not put our lives on hold while you and she work out your differences. Now, if you resolved your differences in time for dinner, you are more than welcome to join us." ******** Ethan read over the files on the Gabriel brothers, there was nothing in them to indicate that they were dangerous as a matter of fact they were both physicians with degrees in mathematics amongst other things. He reread the files on the brothers and set them aside. He was satisfied that the brothers were harmless but there was still the issue of someone being in the girl's front yard. Ethan chuckled at still referring to them as the girls but in his mind even when they were centuries old they would still be the girls, his and Katrina's girls along with Victoria and in a few years she would be gone too. He found himself wishing for another child and wondered if Katrina had given it any thought..... ********* "Luc?" Vanessa called "I am here." "I'm sorry that I left so abruptly, I was upset and angry." "Are you still angry with me?" "Not as angry but a little." "Vanessa, I am truly sorry that I was so loose with my affections and I would like another chance with you." Vanessa hesitated and then agreed, it was the past and Veronica had been right in saying that he really didn't have to tell her. "Veronica and Rik have invited us to dinner with them, does that suit you?" "We're not going to run into any of your conquests are we?" Vanessa asked only half teasing. "No, you have my word." Luc replied. ******** As they got ready for the evening Vanessa and Veronica talked about when they were going to introduce Rik and Luc. "I say we do it tonight and get it over with." Veronica said as she combed her hair. "Shouldn't we ask them first?" Vanessa asked. ******* "I'm glad that you and Vanessa worked things out." Rik said as they walked to the car. "Me too and for the record, let me apologize to you once more for my shortsightedness, I have learned my lesson." ********* Vanessa answered the door when Rik rang the doorbell. "Hi, come on in, Veronica should be down in a few minutes" Both Rik and Luc noticed the guards but didn't say anything instead talking about other things. "Has Veronica mentioned where we will be going?" Rik asked. "No but my guess is that it's someplace that has seafood on the menu." Luc moved so that he was standing next to Vanessa and kissed her cheek, "Thank you for this new start." he said and put an arm around her waist. Veronica came down the stairs a few minutes later and announced that they were going to 'Red Lobster' if there were no objections. An hour later they were sitting at the 'Red Lobster' eating appetizers and talking as they should have during their first meeting. Veronica liked Luc; she liked the way that Vanessa seemed to be more lighthearted around him. As they were eating dessert, Veronica and Vanessa looked at each other and nodded. "Guys, we'd like for you to meet our parents." "That is a good idea." Rik said, "When?" "Tonight." Luc paled, "Tonight? Should we not call them or something?" "They're home." Veronica said, "I called before we left." ********** "What do you think the girls are up to?" Katrina asked. "I don't know but Veronica was very secretive and adamant that you be here." Ethan replied and then hesitated. "What's on your mind?" Katrina asked putting her book down. "I was thinking that in a few years Victoria will be gone." "Yes and?" "How would you feel about another child if it were to happen?" "I hadn't really thought about it." Katrina replied, "But if it were to happen I would be alright with it." "We make such beautiful babies don't we?" "We do." Katrina agreed warming to the idea of another baby. ********* Luc was a basket case; his usual calm, laid back demeanor was nowhere to be seen. Vanessa held his hand and tried to reassure him. "Papa may be a bear but he really is a softie." Luc wasn't convinced. "He will hate me. And then what?" "There are some things that even he can't deny or change and one of those is who our mates are." Vanessa said. She looked at Luc and wondered what the real issue was so she asked. "What's the real problem here? This is beyond the normal nervousness of meeting your mate's parents." "You are acknowledging me as your mate?" Luc asked. "Of course I am! We wouldn't be going to my parent's house otherwise." Vanessa replied. "Will you tell him about me?" So that was it. "What we discussed remains between us, if he should ask then don't you dare lie to him, he'll know and you will never gain his trust no matter how good you are to me." Vanessa said, "But he will respect you if you tell the truth and he knows better than most that people can change." Luc nodded and gave Vanessa's hand a squeeze. ******** Rik was excited and nervous at the same time but there was no fear, he felt prepared to answer any question that Ethan threw at him. He had his arm around Veronica enjoying the feel of her, if he had his way, by morning they would be mated. He glanced over at Luc taking in his pale color. Reluctantly he broke away from Veronica and asked to speak with him in private. "Luc, relax, I am sure that it will be fine." "Vanessa thinks so too." "And she should know." Rik said putting an arm around Luc's shoulders, "Just think, the next time we wake, it won't be alone." Luc gave him a weak smile, "There is that... they are beautiful are they not?" he asked looking at the twins. "Yes brother, they are and I believe that we will have our hands full." Rik replied. Luc chuckled, "They are quite the pair." He turned serious, "Rik, I am truly sorry that I did not listen to you." "It is now past history and it has ended well so no more apologies." ********** An hour later, they were sitting in the car parked in front Ethan and Katrina's. Luc's anxiety level was up again, he didn't deserve Vanessa and he knew it. If asked he would admit to that fact but he would also tell her parents that he would love and keep her safe. Vanessa leaned over and kissed Luc's cheek, "It'll be fine, you'll see." A few minutes later the two couples sat in the living room waiting for Ethan and Katrina to appear. They heard them approaching and each twin grabbed the hand of her mate. "Alright what's the.....? Ethan said and then hesitated, his blue eyes flashed as he stared at Luc.

Vanessa watched as Veronica ran back toward home and worried about her. This wasn't like her at all, she was the one who always followed through on the pranks and had to convince her to go through with them. Vanessa looked back toward the house and knew that they were being watched. There was no sense of danger or that the watchers-there was two of them were angry, they were curious about her and Veronica. Without wasting another second, Vanessa took off after Veronica arriving at the house just a minute or two after she did. She sat on the beach next to her and put an arm around Veronica. "Ronnie, you need to tell me what's going on with you right now." "I.... I don't know." Veronica said. "Was it the house?" "Nessa, if I tell you something, will you promise not to think I'm crazy?" "I promise, now talk to me." "I think I know who the voice belongs to." ******** Rik kicked himself for adding the part about needing her and then the "I found you." she had no way of knowing who or what he was. For all she knew he could be dangerous! He felt her confusion and the spike in her heart rate and pulled back. He looked over at Luc who had a very pensive look on his face and knew what he was thinking. "They belong to us." he said softly. "Yes." Rik replied. "Fuck!" Luc cursed. "What is the problem?" Rik asked confused by Luc's reaction. "I was ill prepared for this; I should have listened to you." "That is water under the bridge." Rik said, "Perhaps now you can keep your dick in your pants." "What are we going to do?" Luc asked. "We?" Rik asked, "I do not know your plans but I plan to meet my mate before this week is over. You can do whatever you wish although if I were you I would work on telling her why you've been with so many women." Rik looked down the beach and wanted to go to his mate right then but he waited, he wanted to enjoy the feeling of finding her. The thought that soon he would no longer be alone buoyed his spirits as nothing else could. Soon..... He thought to Veronica. He turned to see that Luc had already gone to his room, he felt sorry for him but he did try to warn him but to no avail. "You worry too much!" Luc said, "We probably won't find our mates for centuries." "We have no way of knowing that." he would tell him, "You must exercise more restraint!" Luc would laugh at him and call him a prude but he wasn't laughing now. ******** Veronica's head jerked up, he was here somewhere.... The house, he was in that house. She didn't understand her fear, wasn't this what she wanted? She looked over at Vanessa who hadn't seen her jerk. "Soon......" "Nessa, I .... Hear him." "Hear who?" "My.... My mate, I hear him." "Ronnie......" "He's in the house and Nessa? Your's is there too." "Mine? How do you know?" "I don't know but I do, can't you feel him?" Vanessa didn't know how to respond, she knew that there were two vampires in the house and knew that they weren't dangerous but their mates? "Ronnie....." "Don't you feel him?" Veronica asked again interrupting Vanessa. "I felt that there were two of them but that one of them was my mate? No, I didn't get that." "I don't understand how I know but you don't." Veronica said softly looking down the beach. "Maybe because you're mistaken." Vanessa replied rubbing Veronica's back. "I'm not wrong! He's there with the one who is my mate; maybe he's blocking you or something." Vanessa kept rubbing Veronica's back until she calmed. "Let's go inside." Vanessa said standing and then holding her hand out to Veronica. Veronica hesitated, took Vanessa's hand and allowed herself to be led indoors. Before going inside she took another look down the beach. ******** Luc's stomach roiled, while he was fairly certain that both he and Rik had mates he hadn't expected to find them anytime soon. "What the fuck?" he asked himself, both he and Rik were over four hundred years old, "What was I thinking?" he asked aloud. "With your little head." he answered himself. As soon as he realized who the two women were he blocked himself off, he wasn't as anxious to meet his mate as Rik was to meet his. He was reminded of the line that Ricky Ricardo said to Lucy when she fucked up, "Lucy you got some splaining to do." "Yes Luc you got some splaining to do." he said softly. Of the two of them he had always been the more adventurous and didn't think too much about the future whereas Rik was always thinking ahead and about the possible consequences of everything that he did. He always told Rik that he needed to relax and have fun and now he was only beginning to understand Rik a little more and wished that he were more like him. Even now that he had just found his mate Rik was more relaxed, he would always be quiet and reserved but once he met his mate another part of him would come forward. The part of him that hated violence would no longer hesitate to use it to defend and protect his mate and any that belonged to her. He would do the same that went without saying but the joy of finding her was marred by the fact that he had to tell her that he fucked anyone who would let him because he thought that she would understand. Luc found himself feeling a little bit envious at Rik's happiness and then felt guilty. He was the one that chose to disregard Rik's warnings and he was one who would have to lie in the bed that he made. Luc swore under his breath and went to his room. ******* Rik took a hot shower before lying down to rest. As he closed his eyes he wondered what his mate looked like, it didn't really matter to him she would be beautiful no matter what. He wondered what her name was, what she did for a living, what she liked to eat assuming that she could eat, what her hobbies were..... He wanted to know everything about her. He remembered that the grounds keeper would be coming during the day, he might know. Rik got up, wrote a note asking the man to come into the main kitchen when he got there. He vanished outside and put the note where he was sure the man would see it and went inside to wait for the man to come. If the man knew who the women were there wouldn't be a problem with him divulging the information unless he worked for them too. He lay back on the bed and carefully reached out to his mate. He could feel her nervousness and sought to sooth her. "Rest easy, I will not harm you." ******** Veronica lay on her bed, eyes wide open and her heart pounding. Vanessa had gone downstairs to make her a cup of chamomile tea to help settle her nerve. She hated the taste of the stuff but Vanessa like their mother swore by the stuff. Once again she questioned why she was so nervous and wondered if the fact that Vanessa couldn't feel her mate had something to do with it but she was nervous before that. "Why am I so nervous?" she asked herself again, "I wanted to be found and now that I am....." Then she heard him, "rest easy, I will not harm you." By the time Vanessa returned with the tea, Veronica had turned on her side and was sound asleep. ******* Vanessa took the tea to her room and drank it. The fact that Veronica was so nervous made her nervous, of the two of them Veronica was the kick ass one who flinched at nothing. Veronica was also sure that Vanessa's mate was there as well but if that were true, why didn't she feel him? The thought that they might not recognize each other unless something horrible happened crossed Vanessa's mind but she reminded herself that Patrick found his mate before he raped but then he still almost raped. She was now as nervous as Veronica was and did something that she hadn't done since they were children; she went into Veronica's room and crawled into bed with her. ******* The groundskeeper saw the note and wondered what the problem was, he hadn't old anyone about the brothers as they had requested .... That wasn't exactly true, he told one of the Sinclaire girls, the one with the blue eyes that someone had moved into the house but that was all that he said. He hadn't even told his wife of thirty years anything about the brothers. Even as he went into the house he was trying to figure out what if anything he had done wrong. He was fully prepared to beg for his job, this one job allowed him to cut back on some of the others and to buy his wife a necklace with her birthstone in it for her birthday. He ran down a mental checklist of all that he could have done wrong and came up empty handed. Rik was sitting at the table waiting for the groundskeeper to come in. A pot of coffee was brewing, the aroma filling the kitchen. Two coffee mugs along with small plates were sitting on the counter next to the coffeemaker in anticipation of the groundskeeper's arrival. Rik's intent was to make the man feel comfortable and to allay any fears that he was in trouble. When he heard the tap on the door signaling the man's arrival he called out. "Come!" When the man came in, Rik offered him a seat. "Please, sit down." he said, "May I offer you coffee?" "That would be..... Yes please." "Your name is Arnold, is that correct?" Rik asked the man attempting to put him at ease. "Yessir." "Arnold, you may call me Rik, what would you like in your coffee?" "Nothing sir, I mean Rik." Arnold replied nervously. As Rik poured the coffee Arnold wondered what was happening, in all of his years he never had an employer that insisted that he address then by their first name. "We have muffins, would you care for one with your coffee?" Rik asked. "N....no sir.... Rik." Arnold stammered. Rik poured the coffee and sat a mug down in front of Arnold before sitting down. "How long have you been in this area?" Rik asked as he took a sip of his coffee. "A long time." Arnold replied not touching his coffee, "Forty years or so." "So you are familiar with the people who live in the area." "Yessir, I tend to many of the yards." "You do good work; I can see why people ask for you." Rik said meaning the compliment. "Thank you." Arnold now was relaxing now that he was sure that his job was safe. "Do you work for the people who live about three miles down the beach?" Rik asked. "No sir." "Please, you must call me Rik; do you know who lives there?" "Yessir, Rik." "Would you mind sharing the information?" "I.... I don't know...." Arnold said hesitating. "I mean them no harm." Rik assured him. "My brother and I were thinking of going there to introduce ourselves." "I guess there's no harm in telling you." Arnold said not feeling the small mental push that came from Rik. "Thank you on behalf of both my brother and myself." "Veronica and Vanessa Sinclaire live there." Arnold said, "They haven't been there very long though they moved in a couple of months ago." Rik's mouth went dry. "Sinclaire? As in Ethan Sinclaire's daughters?" he asked. "That would be them, they're identical twins except that Veronica has brown eyes and Vanessa's eyes are blue." Rik wasn't listening, he had never met any of the Sinclaires but their story was known throughout the vampire world and his mate was a daughter to.....he could only hope that he measured up in Ethan and Katrina's eyes. To be accepted into a family such as theirs would be one of the highest honors that he could think of. To become a part of a family who had such a horrible and troubled past and then to be courageous enough to overcome and publicly share their story and to reach out to others to help them was.... "Sir?" Arnold called. "Oui? Yes?" "Are you alright?" "Yes! Yes thank you for the information! It is going to be a lovely day, why do you not take your wife out for the day?" Rik asked feeling more generous than usual. "But...." "Where would you like to take her?" Rik asked. "She's been wanting to go on that dinner cruise but...." "Then you shall take her with our complements! Go home make love to your wife and then take her on this cruise, it shall be arranged, what is the name of the cruise?" Rik asked picking up his phone. A very stunned Arnold gave Rik the information and watched as Rik called the reservation line and made the reservations to include champagne and a suite to the hotel that was a part of the cruise. "I don't know what to say." Arnold said still stunned. "No thanks are needed! You have just helped me- go home and enjoy your time with your mate and don't forget to make love to her." Rik replied. Rik watched as an excited and surprised Arnold practically ran to his truck and headed home to surprise his wife with the good news. His mate was a Sinclaire but which twin he wondered, the blue eyed one or the brown eyes one? Too excited to rest, he went to his room turned on his laptop and did a search on Ethan and Katrina Sinclaire on the site that was for vampires only. He had never actually read their story but had heard enough to know that the family had suffered greatly because of the legacy of rape losing a husband, a child, a mate and a grandfather because of it. He settled on his bed and began to read, it took him four hours to read everything about Ethan and Katrina and he watched most of the videos. He could tell that Katrina was uncomfortable being in the spotlight but he also sensed her quiet strength. "You would have to be strong in order to do what you have done and are doing." he murmured at the laptop. Rik thought that Katrina was beautiful and had the suspicion that the daughters would be as well. He looked at Ethan next; he thought him exceptionally attractive and had no problems with admitting that, he was secure enough in his own masculinity to acknowledge when another male was attractive. He replayed one of the videos where Ethan was speaking and realized that while Ethan was relatively soft spoken and seemed laid back, part of it was an illusion. Ethan Sinclaire was one of the most dangerous vampires he had ever seen and he could and would kill anyone or anything that threatened his daughters or anyone that he cared for. Rik blew out a breath; this vacation had just become very interesting. He looked up the girls next and wasn't surprised to see that they were both beautiful. They were both taller than their mother by several inches and had the athletic build of their father. "Which one of you is mine?" He asked as he read about them. "Beauty and brains." he murmured as he looked at the pictures again and read the bio. Suddenly he knew which one belonged to him. "You." he said looking at Veronica's image, "You are mine." he said still looking at the picture. He logged off and went it find Luc to tell him that he knew who their mates were. He found Luc sitting in the Jacuzzi in his part of the house. "I know who they are." Rik said excitedly. "Who and how do you know?" "Rik told Luc about Arnold. "And by the way I gave him the day off and we are giving him and his wife a night out." "Very nice but now tell me who out mates are." Luc said impatiently. "Veronica and Vanessa Sinclaire." "Sinclaire?" Luc said frowning, "You mean as in Ethan Sinclaire?" "Yes!" Rik exclaimed, "Veronica is my mate and Vanessa is yours." "Ethan Sinclaire? Rik do you have any idea of who he is?" "Of course I do! I've been reading about the family. Luc our mates are so beautiful! They are built like real women and not sticks with legs! Veronica has brown eyes and Vanessa has blue! Get out of the tub and I will pull up their pictures and they're both doctors with PhDs in genetics and...." Luc didn't move from the tub, he had no doubt that Rik would have no problem being accepted into the family but he was another story, he would have to prove himself worthy of being a mate to Vanessa Sinclaire. Like Rik he was aware of the Sinclaire family's background and knew without doing an internet search the kind of man and father Ethan Sinclaire was-fiercely protective and merciless to anyone who harmed any of those close to him. He still hadn't opened himself to his mate Vanessa and didn't know when he would finding out that her father was Ethan Sinclaire wasn't helping. He knew that Rik was chomping at the bit and would go to Veronica sooner rather than later. "I want to go see her; will you come with me to meet our mates?" Rik asked. Luc had never seen Rik so animated and didn't have the heart to tell him no. "When?" he asked. "This evening.... Luc, you haven't opened yourself to her have you?" "No and I am wondering if I should wait." "Why?' Rik asked and then understood. "Luc what is done is done, there is nothing that you can do but to be honest with her and move forward. Her father will see that you are a good man and will care for Vanessa even at the cost of your life." "You are right, you are always right." Luc murmured as for the first time he opened himself to Vanessa. "I am here." ******** Vanessa was in the shower when she heard the voice, it startled her so badly that she almost slipped but unlike Veronica, Vanessa answered the voice. "Who are you?" "I am called Luc, I am your mate." The soap slipped from Vanessa's hands and landed on the shower floor with a clunk. She didn't know what she was supposed to say or do so she said and did nothing until she heard Veronica calling her name. Vanessa got out of the shower, put on her robe and went into her bedroom to find Vanessa sitting on her bed. Veronica saw the shocked look on Vanessa's face, "You heard him didn't you?" she asked. Vanessa shook her head, walked over to the bed and sat down. Veronica moved to behind her, reached for a brush and began to brush Vanessa's wet hair. "What did he say?" she asked after a few minutes. "He said I am here and I asked who he was." Vanessa whispered. "Did he tell you?" "He said that his name was Luc." "Nessa, our mates are brothers." "How do you know?" "I don't know but they are." Veronica replied. "Have you spoken to yours?" Vanessa asked. "No, I guess I should since you've spoken to yours." Veronica braided Vanessa's hair before it dried and then "spoke" to her mate. "Who are you?" Veronica noticed that her nervousness was gone; it diminished when her mate told her to rest easy, and it completely disappeared when Vanessa told her that she had spoken to her mate. ******* Rik jerked when he heard Veronica's voice. He liked the strength that he heard in it and replied. "I am your mate, my name is Rik. Luc is my brother and the mate to your twin Vanessa." "How do you know our names?" Veronica demanded, back to her old self. "I had a little help and then there is the internet, will you and your twin meet Luc and I for dinner?" Veronica didn't respond for several minutes, she was in a debate with Vanessa. ******* "Tonight? Ronnie I don't know about this." Vanessa said. "Nessa they're our mates for crying out loud!" "Yeah but shouldn't we tell mom and dad before we meet them?" "Vanessa," Veronica said firmly, "We will tell them but I want to meet him first now come on and say yes." After several more minutes of heated conversation, Vanessa agreed. ******** Rik had an idea of what was happening and waited, the sisters were debating about meeting them. While he was waiting he logged on to his laptop to look for a nice place to take their mates. He knew that Luc was nervous and understandably so but he would stand for him, he better than anyone knew that Luc was a good man/vampire who would die defending his mate and would never mistreat her in anyway. Several minutes passed before Veronica finally responded. "We'll meet you when and where?" "We will pick you up....." "No you won't, we'll meet you there." Veronica interrupted. "But...." "No buts." Veronica said, "Where and when?" she asked again. Rik got it and didn't press. "Will seven o'clock at the .... Ruth Chris steakhouse be alright?" Rik asked. "That's a little too formal, how about the restaurant and nightclub that's just down the way from here?" Veronica asked. Without thinking about it, Rik agreed. "We will see you soon." he said happily. ******** Luc leaned against the kitchen door listening to Rik make plans for meeting their mates. "What time are we picking them up?" he asked. "They are meeting us there." Rik replied. "And where is there?" Luc asked. "At the restaurant/ nightclub down the beach." "Alright." Luc replied. ******** "Nessa! Calm down!" Veronica said as she fixed Vanessa's hair, "It's not like we're going to mate with them tonight." "I know but what if....." "Nessa, they're our mates, even if we showed up wearing rags they'll be happy to see us." "But what if we do mate tonight?" Vanessa asked. "Then we mate and go home and introduce them to everyone, Nessa what's really bothering you?" Veronica asked as she finished the French braid and moved to the front of Vanessa so that she could braid her hair. "Nothing.... It's just that it's been awhile since I've been with anyone and I'm just nervous is all." "It's been awhile for me too but I think that you're worrying about nothing. We'll know when it's time to mate and we won't be nervous, and besides, think of tonight as a meet and greet and you'll be fine." ******* Rik changed clothes several times before deciding on khaki's and a white polo shirt, Luc also decided on khaki's but his polo shirt was blue. Rik's excitement was beginning to rub off on Luc; for once he was the one rushing Rik instead of the other way around. "Hurry up! I want to get a good table!" he called over the intercom. Rik and Luc got to the restaurant a full half hour before Veronica and Vanessa to get a good table preferably with a view of the ocean. It was early enough that they were able to get a decent table away from the door and that had a decent view of the ocean. Even though they passed several beautiful women, Luc ignored all of them without speaking to them; he barely even looked at them. They no longer appealed to him; his mind was only on one woman- his mate. The brothers nursed a drink each lost in their own thoughts but both of them looking at the door at the exact same moment when Vanessa and Veronica walked in. They both stood at the same time and watched as Veronica and Vanessa approached the table. "Exquisite." Luc murmured in awe when he caught sight of Vanessa. He could already imagine himself touching her milk chocolate colored skin and tasting her, he could hardly wait to make love with and to her. "Indeed." Rik agreed as he watched Veronica lead Vanessa by the hand to their table. His thoughts weren't all that different than Luc's and like Luc he was anxious to get Veronica into bed but reminded himself that Ethan Sinclaire was their father and that they had to proceed carefully. The two couples stood looking at each other until Veronica broke the silence. "Hi, I'm Veronica Sinclaire and this is my twin Vanessa. Rik took Veronica's hand in his and kissed palm and then the back of it. "I am Rik Gabriel and this is my brother Luc." Luc was holding Vanessa's hand after having already kissed it as Rik had Veronica's. "We are so happy to have found you." Rik said speaking for both himself and Luc. "Please sit down and let us get acquainted with one another." They held their conversation until they had placed their drink and appetizer orders. Vanessa stole looks at Luc while Veronica didn't bother to hide the fact that she was looking at Rik and liked what she saw. She liked his dark brown eyes and his quiet spirit, her own more rambunctious spirit seemed to calm in his presence and but damn she thought, "he is smokin hot!" Vanessa had thoughts of her own, Luc seemed to be the more outgoing of the two and she wasn't near as outgoing as Veronica was- she had the feeling that Luc was going to be showing her some interesting times. She was probably the first of the four of them to realize that their mates were their polar opposites; Rik realized it shortly after she did. It only made sense because she and Rik were the observers of the four of them. They chatted through drinks and the appetizers before ordering dinner. The salads had just been brought to the table when they heard a high pitched voice calling across the room. "Rik! Luc! Yoo-hoo!" Luc looked at where the voice came from and silently swore as Nina made her way to their table closely followed by her friend Frannie. Luc kicked Rik under the table and looked toward the two women who were halfway toward their table. Rik looked in the direction that Luc was indicating and swore under his breath. Veronica and Vanessa saw the two women and looked at Rik and Luc. "Who are they?" Vanessa asked, her tone cool. Luc realized that while Vanessa was quiet, she had a temper that he would do well not to stir up. "Well?" Veronica asked, "you heard her, who are they?" There was no time to answer, Nina and Frannie were already at the table and all four women were glaring at each other.

Rik parked in the garage, jumped out of the car and ran to the passenger side to help Veronica out. Luc and Vanessa were already out of the car and were already on their way into the house. "I've been wondering what this house looks like on the inside." Vanessa said as she followed Luc in. "Wonder no more!" Luc exclaimed taking Vanessa's hand and leading her to the kitchen. "This is the community kitchen." he explained, "each of our wings is like its own separate house complete with everything that we could ever need." "Have you cooked in here?" Vanessa asked. "No but I think that we will start now that you and Veronica are here." Luc replied, "But you haven't answered my question, what do you like to eat for breakfast?" "I'm not big on eating right after I get up." Vanessa replied, "I have to wait at least an hour or so but when I do eat, I like fruit and cereal." she replied. "I think we can make sure that we have those things." Luc replied, "Let me show you the rest of the house." Luc gave Vanessa the grand tour but she knew that he had something to say to her. Once they got to the Jacuzzi room she stopped him. "You have something to tell me?" she asked. "Vanessa, I know that I have not been discreet...." "Luc, stop." Vanessa said pressing her fingertips against his lips, "its past history and we don't need to talk about it." "But you said that we needed to discuss this." "I was wrong, we don't need to." Vanessa said, "Talking about it won't change it and you're right we hadn't found each other yet and it was my choice to stay almost celibate." "You are alright with this?" he asked. "I'm alright with it so.... Show me where our room is." she said changing the subject. ********* Veronica leaned back into Rik's arms. "Was it bad?" she asked. "You mean the meeting with your father? No, not bad but he is a formidable man especially where you and your sisters are concerned." Rik replied. "He can be on the overprotective side but he's always been that way." "I can understand why and I expected it." Rik replied. Vanessa turned around in his arms, "what about your parents? What will they say about us and my family?" "They will be excited and will be anxious to meet both of you." Rik assured her, "Would you like to see the house?" "The only things that I'm interested in seeing are the bed and you without clothes on." Veronica said as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Rik was suddenly nervous; somehow making love to her telepathically seemed a whole lot easier than being with her in person. "You are shy aren't you?" Veronica asked surprised. "No, not really." Rik said, "I am... nervous." Veronica frowned. "Why? I won't bite unless you want me to." she said as she slipped her hands under his shirt and rubbed his back before sliding them down to his ass and squeezing before moving them back up to his lower back. "I just never expected to find you and now that you are here....." Rik cupped Veronica's face in his hands and kissed her for the first time as her mate. During the kiss all nervousness faded as the want and need to claim what was his took over. He broke the kiss, stepped back and took Veronica's hand and began to lead her through the house. They heard Vanessa and Luc's voices coming from another part of the house but didn't stop or acknowledge them in any way as they made their way up the stairs. When they got to the top of the stairs Rik stopped Veronica and picked her up. "What are you doing?" she asked surprised. "Carrying my bride to bed." He replied. "The wedding isn't for two weeks so I'm not a bride yet." Veronica replied. "As far as I am concerned you are a bride, the real wedding is taking place now and soon we will be mated." Rik opened the door and revealed an immaculate suite. Veronica looked around for anything out of place and realized that they both had some adjusting to do. She continued to look around as Rik carried her as though she weighed nothing through his wing of the house not stopping until they reached the bedroom. Rik sat her on the bed and stepped back, he just wanted to look at her. "You are very beautiful." he said softly as he walked toward her and knelt down at her feet and removed her shoes before kissing the top of each foot, "and I am lucky to have found you." he added as he ran his hands up over her jean clad legs and thighs until they rested on her hips. Veronica put her hands on Rik's shoulders and waited. Rik stood up from his kneeling position and pulled Veronica up by her hands and kissed her until she melted into him. Veronica pulled Rik's shirt up and over his head before trying to unbutton his slacks. She became frustrated and pulled the waistband of his slacks until the buttons flew off and the zipper now ruined was opened. She looked down at Rik's hard member, took it in her hand and stroked until Rik stopped her. "Not like this." he breathed as he took her hands and put them on his chest, "do not move them." he commanded as he began to undress her. Veronica wanted so badly to move her hands over his chest and down his stomach but she didn't. Her hands trembled as Rik continued to undress her until all that was left was her bra and panties. "Mon dieu! My god!" Rik murmured as he took in her smooth coffee with cream colored skin, "you are even more beautiful than I had imagined." Veronica's body thrummed and he hadn't really touched her yet except with his eyes. Rik took her hand and led her in a slow spin in front of him once, twice, three times until he was sure that he had seen as much of her as he could from the current angle. His cock was already leaking and throbbing but he wanted to see every inch of her before he took her. After a final spin he reached behind her and undid her bra letting the straps fall over her shoulders and down her arms. The bra landed in a heap at their feet as Rik took a breast in each hand and squeezed and stroked the nipples until Veronica was biting her lip and moaning with both pleasure and impatience. Not to be hurried, Rik slowly ran a finger along the waistband of her panties before hooking a finger inside and sliding them slowly over her hips. "Rik....." "I want to see all of you." he murmured as the panties fell to the floor. He kicked them out of the way and had her repeat the slow spin, "you are perfect." he told her after the last spin. He eased Veronica back on the bed so that her legs hung over the sides, knelt between them and spread her legs wide open revealing what he wanted to see the most. The scent of her arousal was almost his undoing, the pungent but far from unpleasant smell made his cock jump and throb but he wanted just a little taste of her before they were mated. Veronica was beside herself with impatience and need "Rik for god's sake!" Rik refused to be hurried; he had waited far too long for this moment. After he had his time they could go as hard and as fast she wanted but for now.... "You smell divine." he said as he nuzzled the inside of her right thigh and kissed it before turning his attention to her throbbing and glistening jewel. Without warning he licked and then sucked catching Veronica completely off guard. The little taste became a long drink as he lapped up her juices catching them with his tongue before they hit the bed. Veronica didn't know what hit her. She had experienced orgasms before but they hadn't even close to what she was experiencing now, no one had ever made her scream the way that she was screaming now. Rik continued to drink from her long after her climax waned, he couldn't seem to get enough of her. Finally he stopped although he didn't want to. It was time for them to be joined as mates. He rose from his kneeling position and called Veronica's name. "Look at me and hear my words." he said as he positioned himself to enter her for the first time. "I Rik Gabriel claim you Veronica Sinclaire to be mine for eternity." And then he rammed into her and stilled not moving until he felt Veronica moving beneath him. Rik stretched out over her not losing his tempo until he was face to face with her. He kissed her full lips taking in her breath and she his only leaving them long enough to lick the tears that streamed down the side of her face. He felt the tingle at the balls of his feet and knew that within seconds the tingle would travel from the balls of his feet, up his legs and spread to his ass before it finally centered on his cock, Rik glued his mouth to Veronica's and moaned as his seed filled her. He ground against her until she came once again with a scream that was every bit as loud as the first one. Rik slowly pulled out of her, moved to her side and snuggled her against his side. Neither of them spoke for several minutes as they caught their breaths. Until that moment Veronica couldn't have said that she loved Rik but now she could. "I love you Rik." she said softly. "Je t'aime- I love you." Rik replied, "Now sleep." ********* Vanessa looked around at the slightly cluttered room and wondered why they had been paired as they were. She would have bet her bottom dollar that Rik's side of the house was as immaculate as her room at the other house. "Life is going to be interesting." she thought as she walked around the huge bedroom. Luc was in the bathroom doing something that he didn't want her to see. "Please wait here." he said as he kissed her and headed into the bathroom. A few minutes later he came out and held his hand out to her, "come.' Vanessa stopped at the doorway, the entire bathroom was alit with soft candle light, fresh flowers and rose petals floating in the tub that was already filled with hot water. An ice bucket with champagne sat on a small table that held two champagne glasses and an assortment of fresh fruits. Luc like Rik wasn't going to rush his first time with Vanessa for two reasons, the first and main one was that he wanted her to feel how much he loved her, the second was the same as Rik's he had been waiting for her even if he had never admitted it until now. "This is beautiful." Vanessa murmured softly. This was how she had envisioned her first night with her mate. The flowers, the romance; all of it. "Do you really like it?" Rik asked peering into her eyes. "Yes, I really like it." she said smiling up at him. With a thought they were both naked. Luc's breath caught as he surveyed the naked woman standing before him. His mouth watered when his eyes landed on hard nipples that were centered on breasts that were large and looked soft enough to sleep on. Unable to resist, Luc lifted Vanessa up so that her nipples were at his mouth and began nibbling at them. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Luc's head and held him tight against her breasts as she ground against him seeking relief. Luc released her nipple and set her down, it was going much too fast. He poured her a glass of champagne and handed it to her. "Why did we stop?" Vanessa asked taking the glass of champagne. "Because I do not want to rush this." Luc replied as he pushed a strand of hair out of her face, "It has been a long time in getting here. He took the empty champagne glass and led her to the tub, got in before helping Vanessa in. Luc sat down and positioned Vanessa so that she faced forward and straddled his lap, he groaned when Vanessa rubbed her sex against his cock. As much as he hadn't wanted to rush, it was clear that he was fighting a losing battle. He lifted Vanessa up by her hips and eased her down until he was buried deep inside of her. "I Luc Gabriel take you Vanessa Sinclaire as my mate; I swear to you that there will never be another and that I will protect you with my life. Je t'aime-I love you Vanessa." Vanessa began to rock back and forth on him with her lips pressed against his neck before she realized what she was doing; she bit hard enough to draw blood. She came the moment his blood touched her tongue and he came with the first pull of blood that Vanessa took from him. Water mixed with rose petals splashed over the side of the tub soaking the floor. Vanessa laid her head on Luc's shoulder and closed her eyes, as far as she was concerned everything was perfect. The sense of urgency that she felt when they first began to make love was gone replaced with the feeling that they could now relax and take as long as they wished. The thing was, as perfect as she thought it was, Vanessa didn't understand the urgency or the sense of relief that followed it. She finally attributed as being a part of the mating ad relaxed as Luc stood still holding her and stepped out of the tub and headed into the bedroom. Luc lay Vanessa on the bed, turned her onto her stomach and began a head to toe massage that had her purring in no time, when the back was finished, he turned her onto her back and massaged her paying special attention to her breasts. He pinched and rolled her nipples until she was whimpering but he refused to rush this time as he took one and then the other nipple into his mouth sucking and then nipping as his hands skimmed down her body, the touch so light it was a tease. When he reached her mound, Vanessa raised her hips to meet his touch but Luc pulled back keeping the touch as light as a butterfly's until she was begging him for release. Luc slid two fingers inside of her while using his thumb to massage her clit. When she was close to coming, Luc quickly moved so that he was poised above her. The head of his cock was aimed at her opening, taking a breath he slid into her triggering her climax with his immediately following. He was going to move to lie beside her but she wouldn't let him. "No, not yet." Luc stayed where he was watching for signs that he was hurting her or getting too heavy. When he saw her eyes closing he began to slowly move. "Luc?" Vanessa called. "Yes? "Je t' aime- I love you." "Je t' aime Vanessa- I love you Vanessa." Luc replied as he kissed her cheek. Vanessa turned to face him, laid her head on his shoulder and was asleep in seconds. ******** He paced back and forth filled with fury that Ethan and Katrina Sinclaire were happy, that their daughters had their mates and were at this very movement making love with them. "It isn't right!" he yelled into the air, "They should not be this happy!" he added as he threw a goblet filled with blood laced with wine across the room. If he had his way every damned Sinclaire would be dead male and female both but he considered himself a fair man, he only needed one life. At first he wanted one of the twins but now it had come down to whoever it was he could get and no one was exempt. He wasn't fooling himself, he knew that if he were caught and he was almost certain that he would be that Ethan Sinclaire would show no mercy to him whatsoever. He also knew that his mate Katrina as tenderhearted as he knew her to be wouldn't speak on his behalf. He had actually thought about ending his life after he killed one of them but decided that it would be the coward's way out. He wanted to suffer at their hands because no matter what they did to him, whoever he got a hold of would never be back and the Sinclaires would know the true meaning of loss. He poured himself another drink and sat down at his desk. He turned on his laptop and pulled up his accounts, he had to make sure that everything was in order in the event of his probable death. His servants would want for nothing and would never have to work another day in their lives unless they wanted to as all of his money was to be split among them. They had become his family and each of them would inherit a home to do with as they pleased, he really didn't care. Of all his house servants there was only one who wasn't afraid to confront him and for that reason alone he treasured her more than any of the others. He knew that she was in love with him but she wasn't his.... His was.... He gulped down wine/blood mixture and began to plan where he would go if by some chance he could escape. It didn't take him long before he realized that there was no place that he could go that he could escape the wrath of the Sinclaire family as a whole but that wasn't reason enough to dissuade him. He resigned himself to his death. ******** The two couples spent the entire next day and night in their separate wings of the house before meeting in the common kitchen for a meal. Veronica noticed that Vanessa had lost some of her shyness while Vanessa noticed that Veronica seemed a little more settled. It hadn't taken Luc long to realize that Vanessa liked everything in its place. He had gone into the bathroom for just a few minutes and when he came out everything had been put away. After a long discussion they came to a compromise. Rik and Veronica also had to come to some kind of agreement. Rik was amazed that in two days their room looked like a cyclone had hit it and Veronica hadn't even moved her things in yet. Once again he was struck by the fact that their mates were the opposite of them and to a large extent were the opposites of each other although they were physically identical in every way except eye color. "We have to go over to mom and dads tonight." Vanessa said, "The wedding is in less than two weeks." "I've got my notebook done, how about you?" Veronica asked. "Yep, what time are we going over there?" "I told mom around six-thirty..... Ummm guys, tonight you talk to mom." Rik and Luc looked at each other and shrugged thinking that compared to the meeting with Ethan a meeting with Katrina would be a walk in the park and were actually looking forward to talking with Katrina. "Do you suppose we could go to your lab?" Rik asked Veronica, "I would like to see your research." "As would I." Luc chimed in. "We'd have to do it early or after we're done at mom and dads." Vanessa said, "and remember mom hates lateness." she said to Veronica. "Then we'd better go afterwards." Veronica said remembering the last lecture they got when they late. ******** Katrina checked on the roast while Victoria set the table excited to be meeting who she considered to be her new brothers. She had even baked snickerdoodles for the occasion and had they gift wrapped to give as presents. She was just as excited to see her sisters; she missed them horribly and hoped that because they were mated that they wouldn't allow her to visit. Katrina planned dinner for seven-thirty which would allow plenty of time for her to talk with Rik and Luc and for Victoria to get acquainted with the brothers. She liked both men and only planned to reiterate what Ethan told them although in a much nicer way and she would talk to them together instead of separately so that she wouldn't have to repeat herself. She glanced at the clock and left Victoria to finish setting the table and Ethan to keep an eye on Victoria and the roast while she took a quick shower and changed. As she looked through the closet trying to decide what to wear she came across a box labeled 'maternity clothes' she resisted the urge to take the box out and to look at them for two reasons, the girls would be arriving soon, she wasn't pregnant and didn't know when or if it would happen again. To her opening the box would be jinxing herself if there was a chance of pregnancy. Instead she mused over what she should wear and went with comfort. Twenty minutes later she was back in the kitchen checking on the progress of the meal. She looked at the clock when she heard Vanessa and Veronica's voices. She couldn't believe it, they were fifteen minutes early and she wondered which brother she had to thank for it. Her gut told her Rik although she wasn't sure of why she thought that. Victoria was already sizing the brothers up with a critical eye. "Are you nice to my sisters?" she asked her tone serious. Rik and Luc looked at each other and then at the intense little girl standing in front of them with her hands on her hips. "Why do you not ask them?" Rik asked. "Ask us what?" Vanessa said from behind Luc. "Are they nice to you?" Victoria asked. "Very nice so no worries and if you're worried that you can't come to visit don't be." Vanessa said. "I see that you've met Victoria." Ethan said when he reached the living room. "Yes and may I say that you are as beautiful as your mother and sisters?" Luc said kneeling before her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, Victoria blushed and then giggled; Luc had just won her over. Following suit, Rik had the same results. "I made you a present!" she said happy that she liked the brothers. While Victoria ran off to get the presents Katrina looked at the two couples. She had kept her promise to her girls, they were happy and safe. Ethan was watching too and relaxed, his concerns about Luc's ability to keep Vanessa safe were diminishing as he watched how Luc was never more than a touch away and his body was between Vanessa and the door. Victoria came back with two boxes and handed a box to each brother. "Thank you but may I ask what's inside?" Rik asked. "Snickerdoodles!" "I am sorry but what are snickerdoodles?" Rik asked. Victoria gave him an incredulous look. "Snickerdoodles are only the best cookie on the entire planet." she replied. "And you made these cookies?" Luc asked. "I sure did." Victoria replied proudly. "Then I am certain that we shall enjoy them." Rik said speaking for both him and Luc. Katrina let them talk for a few more minutes before pulling the brothers away to the study. They waited until she was seated before they sat down. They waited in silence for Katrina to speak not quite knowing what to expect. "I'm sure that by now you know the history of this family and how Vanessa and Veronica came to be." Katrina said, "So I won't go into the details but I want to tell you what I promised all of my girls on the day that they were born. I promised them a safe and happy life and I also promised to kill anyone or anything that threatened them and that includes the two of you." Her eyes never lost their warmth as she threatened two vampires well over a foot taller than she was and outweighed her as well. Somehow the threat/promise felt more intimidating coming from her than it did Ethan. "Ethan and I love those girls and if I have as much as a hint that either of you are hurting them...." She left the threat unspoken and continued in her soft voice. "We are entrusting the happiness and safety of our daughters to you, do not fail them or us." Luc spoke first. "Mad...." "Katrina please." she interrupted. "Katrina, I speak on behalf of Rik as well as myself, you have our word that no harm will come to any of your daughters and that includes Victoria. We are now members of this family and will die defending it." Katrina gave each brother a long look and then nodded. She was satisfied. ******* Vanessa and Veronica busied themselves in the kitchen. They were actually more worried about Rik and Luc's meeting with their mother than they had been with their meeting with Ethan. They both knew that the guys were sucked in by Katrina's shy, quiet manner but a threat given in that soft voice of hers was worse than a threat spoken in anger. "I like them." Victoria said as she watched Vanessa get ready to mash the potatoes. "They like you too." Vanessa said with a smile, "Go grab the milk for me will you?" Ethan chuckled as he thought about Katrina issuing a threat in her soft voice. "Those two are in for a surprise." he thought as he took the roast out of the oven at the appointed time and put the tray of rolls in oven. That done he took the creamy horseradish out of the fridge and set it on the counter to be taken to the dining room. A few minutes later, Katrina, Rik and Luc came out of the study. Each man went to his mate and kissed her on the cheek and hugged her. Each one of them had the same thought, they didn't want to find out if their mother in law was capable of doing what she threatened although they were certain that she could and would. Dinner was pleasant with Rik and Luc teaching Victoria several words in French. Everyone was surprised to find that she had an ear for languages and as for Victoria- she was thrilled. Dessert consisted of snickerdoodles and coffee with Victoria drinking milk. Ethan, Rik and Luc cleaned up while the women went to the study to make wedding plans. "Has anyone heard from Uncle Patrick?" Vanessa asked. "No but apparently things are going as well as can be expected." Katrina replied as she sat down, "alright, what do we have?" asked. They worked on the wedding for two solid hours. "Well, it helps that you each want the same things." Katrina said relieved, "Rik and Luc will take care of calling their parents right?" She asked. "Yes, they've already talked to them." Veronica said, "They'll be here a few days before the wedding." "Where are they staying? Katrina asked. "We thought that they could stay at the house down the beach from us." Veronica replied. "Why don't we have them stay here?" Katrina asked, "We have plenty of room and they wouldn't have to worry about meals and since the wedding will be here they won't have to worry about finding their way around." The girls agreed to talk to Rik and Luc about it and to leave the decision to them. By the time they left, it was past one am, there was still plenty of time to show Luc and Rik around. Luc pulled up to the gate and entered the access code that Vanessa gave him. They drove to the gate and parked right in front of the door. Rik and Luc made Vanessa and Veronica stay in the car while they scanned the area for danger. As soon as Vanessa was out of the car, she looked at Veronica; someone had been in the lab. "What is it?" Luc asked. "Someone's been here." Vanessa replied looking around. "Do you have lab techs?" Luc asked. "No and we're the only ones besides Uncle Patrick who knows the codes to get in." Vanessa replied. "Wait here......" "Oh no you don't!" Veronica said, "This is our lab and we're going in." "And besides, "Vanessa said, "They could still be in there although I don't smell anything." "Fine but don't go wandering away from us." Rik said firmly. Vanessa said the codes and the doors swung open. "Ewww!" Veronica said covering her nose, "What is that smell?" she asked. "Spoiled blood." Rik replied. "Spoiled bl...." Vanessa and Veronica looked at each other and stepped into the lab. "Lights!" Veronica called out. When the lights came on, they all gasped. The lab was totally destroyed, the PET scan machine was in pieces and strewn all over the lab, blood from the samples that had been collected splattered the walls and the floors, computers and diagnostic machines were totally destroyed. There wasn't a single piece of equipment spared; any data on paper had been run thru the shredder before the shredder itself was destroyed. Shocked, they walked through the rest of the lab only to find that not even the personal areas had been spared. The thing that concerned Rik and Luc was the smell. Yes there had been blood from the lab samples but not enough to cause the stench that assailed their nostrils. Luc stopped them when they got to what would have been Vanessa's room. The smell was strongest there, slowly he opened the door. "Lights!" he said. Their mouths dropped open in horror. ********** Ethan was playing scrabble with Katrina and Victoria and as usual was getting his ass kicked. He was in the middle of laying a word down when he froze. "Stay here!" he whispered and vanished outside. "Who goes there?" one of his guards called out. "Stand down it's me!" Ethan said looking around. The guard appeared before Ethan. "Is there a problem?" "Did you see or hear anything?" Ethan asked looking around. "Not a peep but I'll check with the others." he said. "Good and let me know what they say." Ethan replied. He took another look around, someone or something had been here. He would bet every dime that he had on it but why hadn't his guards picked up on it? As he headed back into the house he heard Katrina call his name. "What is it sweetheart?" he asked. "The girls just called, their lab is completely destroyed, and the only data that they have left is what's on their laptops." "Where are they now?" he asked. "At the lab, they want us to come, there's something that they want us to see." ******** He felt so much better now that he had given them a glimpse of who he was. His only regret was that he couldn't see the expression on the one named Vanessa's face when they went into her bedroom. He finished another drink and vanished to the basement where his bed was. It was early yet but there were plans to be considered and initiated. "Good rest Ethan Sinclaire." he whispered as he lay on the bed fully clothed.

The tension in the room was palpable as Ethan stared at Luc without speaking. Katrina looked at Ethan and then at Luc and wondered what the problem was. To his credit, Luc returned Ethan's stare without flinching and managed not to look away no matter how badly he wanted to. He knew that if he did that Ethan Sinclaire would never consider him worthy of his daughter. He felt Vanessa beside him and then felt a hand on his back lightly rubbing it, she had just chosen. Luc had no doubt that Ethan would respect him but that respect would only be because he was another being. If it extended beyond that, it would be because of Vanessa. He wondered why Ethan was so angry and then he remembered that he and Rik had been investigated. Ethan knew about the countless women that he had dipped his cock into, that had to be it. What else could it be? But that was his and Vanessa's issue to talk about and not her father's. Katrina stepped forward and made an attempt to diffuse the situation. "Hello, I'm Katrina Sinclaire." she said politely, "and this is Ethan my husband." Only then did Luc take his eyes from Ethan's. Both brothers stood and kissed Katrina's hand. "I am Rik Gabriel and this is my brother Luc, it is a pleasure to meet you." There was a tense silence as no one knew what to say or do next. "Please sit down." Katrina said, "Can we offer you something to drink or eat?" "No thanks." Veronica said, "We just came from the 'Red lobster." Ethan's eyes slowly left Luc's face and went to Rik's but didn't stay there for long. He knew who they were and why they were here but wondered why neither of them stated their intent. Luc he could understand, after all he took off like a frightened rabbit when he was challenged in the girl's yard but the other one.... "We are here on a year's sabbatical." Rik said drawing Ethan's cool gaze from Luc back to him. "How nice and how do you know our girls?" Katrina asked already knowing the answer but trying to help. "We are staying in the house down the beach from them." Rik replied. "I see," Katrina said watching Ethan from her peripheral vision and wondering why he was so angry, "and what are you taking a sabbatical from?" she asked. Again it was Rik who spoke, "We are both physicians with various degrees in the sciences and mathematics." Ethan had yet to speak which alarmed both Vanessa and Veronica, for him not to warmly greet a guest was unheard of unless......there was something wrong but these were their mates what could possibly be wrong? Ethan suddenly stood up and looked at Rik. "Follow me." he said and walked away fully expecting Rik to follow him. Veronica looked at Katrina who was as confused as they were and stood up to follow Rik. "Veronica, you can't go with him." Katrina said. "But mom... what's wrong with him tonight?" she asked as she heard the door to the study quietly close "I really don't know." Katrina said. ******* "Have a seat." Ethan said to Rik, his eyes flashing in warning. Rik sat down and gave Ethan a curious look and then spoke. "It is quite obvious that you are angry with us and I would like to know why." "This is more like it." Ethan thought to himself. "I don't trust men who don't come out and say what they want; if I wanted to go on a fishing expedition then I would go fishing." Ethan replied his tone curt. "I see." Rik said, "So because we are taking the time to become acquainted with you that makes us untrustworthy?" Ethan was beginning to like this one but he wasn't finished yet. "In my experience, yes." Ethan replied watching Rik's reaction. "Please, explain this to me, how does this make me suspect of wrong doing?" Rik asked thoroughly enjoying what he considered to be a game but he kept his guard up, Ethan was as he had surmised a very dangerous vampire especially now that his daughters were involved. "A man who hesitates to state his intentions is one of three things, a manipulator, dishonest or a combination of the two. Which of the three are you Mr. Gabriel?" Ethan asked as he leaned forward in his chair and looked directly into Rik's eyes and waited. Rik leaned forward and met Ethan's gaze with one of his own, "I sir am none of those." he replied "I am simply a vampire on sabbatical who had the good fortune of finding his mate. Your daughter Veronica as you know is my mate. I apologize if you misunderstood my intentions when I did not immediately claim her as such but that is not the way of my family." "Explain." Ethan said still staring at Rik impressed that he was pushing back as hard as he as being pushed. "If a man does not take the time to get to know the family of his mate then the question is what is he hiding that he is in such a rush? So you see I was showing you that I had nothing to hide." Ethan liked this young vampire. "And what about my daughter?" he asked. "She is mine to love and protect and I would die protecting her although I am certain that she could hold her own." Rik replied. Ethan held back a smile. "Even so...." "Even so, her safety and happiness are my first concern." Rik interrupted, "everything else is secondary." Ethan waited for several minutes before speaking. "My daughters mean more to me than my own life." Ethan said, "I will kill anyone and I mean anyone who harms them in any way whether it be a stranger, friend or mate. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? If I entrust Veronica to your care you'd damn well better make sure that she is cared for and protected in every way possible. If you cannot make this promise to me then I will not allow her to mate with you." Rik took a deep breath, he was about to push the envelope. "With all due respect, it is not for you to decide whether Veronica and I mate. It has already been decided and as formidable as I know you to be, not even you can change that. The only one who can send me away is Veronica, now, having said that I am fully prepared to swear to you that I will always love and protect Veronica even at the cost of my own life. I swear to you that she will want for nothing and that there isn't anything that I will not do to ensure her happiness." When he was finished, Rik sat back and waited. Ethan looked at Rik and then said, "So have you seen her temper yet?" "Oui-yes!" Rik exclaimed. "Ethan laughed, "I will tell you this, there will never be a dull moment." "I look forward to all of those moments." Rik replied. "Yes well remember what I told you." Ethan said standing up and extending his hand, "welcome." ********* Vanessa held Luc's hand on one side and Veronica's hand on the other. Rik had been in Ethan's study for almost twenty minutes. "What is he doing to him?" Veronica asked nervously. "Just getting acquainted." Katrina said although she was getting a little concerned herself. She had decided to give it another five minutes and if Rik wasn't out of the office by then, she would go and check on him. Luc held Vanessa's hand, he knew that Ethan didn't like him although he wasn't sure of why. While it was true that he had been very sexually active he had never hurt anyone or forced anyone to sleep with him. Could he have been more discreet? Luc wondered, possibly no not possibly, yes he admitted to himself. But there was more to it than that and from what Rik told him about Ethan Sinclaire he would respect a man who changed and was honest about his past. So what was it? There was one thing that he understood about Ethan Sinclaire and that was he-Luc couldn't back down; it would be seen as a sign of weakness. He knew that Veronica was worried about Rik but there was no need for the worry, chances were that by now Ethan and Rik were chatting like old friends. Rik always did have a way with other beings that Luc could only hope to emulate. Vanessa he noticed had the same quality, she like Rik was slow to anger but when it hit one had to duck while Veronica was more like him. He wondered what that meant but it really didn't matter much in the scheme of things, he had to get past the interview with Ethan. Luc's stomach did a flip. While he knew that Ethan couldn't forbid the mating, he could simply accept him as Vanessa's mate and that's as far as it would go unless he proved himself. He looked over at Vanessa, "she is as beautiful as her mother" he thought as he gave her hand a little squeeze. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door to the study opened and voices wafted down the hall. They all anxiously waited for Rik and Ethan to come to the living room. Ethan and Rik walked in side by side both of them smiling, there was no sign of the stern expression that Ethan had left the living room with. In fact he was downright relaxed until his eyes met Luc's and that cold look was back in his eyes. "Damn it!" Luc thought to himself as Ethan put a hand on Rik's shoulder. "Katrina sweetheart, meet Rik mate to our Veronica." Katrina stood up and walked over to Rik. "Welcome to our family Rik." Rik took Katrina's hand and kissed the back of it, "I am pleased and honored to be accepted into your family." Rik said, "Thank you." Rik released Katrina's hand and extended his hand to Ethan who accepted it without hesitation. "Remember my warning." Ethan said as he shook Rik's hand, "Now go to my daughter, your mate." Rik smiled, released Ethan's hand and went to Veronica who was smiling happily. She was really nervous for Rik and realized that she didn't need to be. She took his hand as soon as he was sitting next to her on the couch and glanced over at Vanessa. For some reason Ethan didn't like Luc and Veronica was nervous for both Vanessa and Luc. As she felt Rik's arm go around her she wondered what it was that her father knew about Luc that elicited such a strong dislike. Ethan smiled at Veronica pleased that she was happy and then looked at Luc. "My study, now." he said in a tone so cold that Vanessa shivered. She had only seen this anger a few times in her life and the recipient of that anger never made the same mistake again but what was it that Luc did? She wondered. She gave Luc's hand a reassuring squeeze and whispered a silent prayer that whatever it was that had her father so angry would be resolved. He would never deny her happiness with her mate but Luc would have a hard time of it. She watched as Luc followed Ethan down the hall toward the study, she jumped when she heard the study door close firmly. "Vanessa, why is he so mad at Luc?" Veronica asked. "I wish I knew." Vanessa murmured. ******* "Sit down." Ethan said as he sat down himself. Luc sat down and met Ethan's direct gaze and went on the offensive. "What is your problem with me? As far as I know we have never met." "You're wrong there but we'll talk about that in a few minutes." Ethan replied coolly. He had to admit that he liked the way Luc went on the offensive. He gave Luc the same rundown that he gave Luc except for the speech about protecting Vanessa. They had some talking to before he did the welcome to the family bit. Like Rik, Luc gave the same reasons for not just saying who he was and what he wanted. "I am aware that things are done differently here and I was remiss in not researching it but to be fair, I wasn't expecting to find my mate here." "Did you ever expect to find her?" Ethan asked. "No I did not at least not anytime soon." Luc replied honestly, "Sir if I may, if your dislike of me is because of my past.... History, please be assured that I haven't so much as glanced at another woman since I found Vanessa." "Your past history is between you and Vanessa." Ethan replied, "I'm the last person to judge a man because of his past." "Then what is the difficulty between us?" Luc asked confused. "Earlier you said that we've never met, that isn't true." Luc frowned, he was certain that he and Ethan had never met; he would have remembered meeting anyone from the Sinclaire family. "I beg your pardon." Luc said, "But you are mistaken, we have never met." Ethan didn't immediately reply. He wanted Luc to stew a little longer. "Then you have me at a disadvantage." Luc said softly. "The other night, I called to you why didn't you answer?" Ethan asked. "The other night?" Luc asked and then he remembered someone calling out to him as he was standing in front of Vanessa and Veronica's house. "I wasn't aware that it was you, I thought that you were a guard and had no desire to engage you." Luc replied. "What if I wasn't Vanessa's father or a guard? What if I was someone intending to do her harm?" Ethan asked. "I sensed no danger from you." Luc replied. "Why didn't you answer me?" Ethan shot back at him. Ethan had him there and Luc knew it, his best option was to tell the truth and besides, Ethan would see through a lie. "You are correct in that I should have acknowledged your call out to me; I had other things on my mind and hadn't anticipated seeing anyone." Luc replied. "You ran because I startled you?" Ethan asked. "No! I...." Luc stopped, he wasn't helping himself and he was allowing Ethan to intimidate him. "Then by all means explain to me why you didn't respond when I called and why you didn't check to be sure that my daughter, your mate was safe." Ethan said. Luc took a deep breath and blew it out and began to tell Ethan about the events of the evening. "So you see I was there to talk to Veronica about Rik. I wanted to let her know that he was innocent and had nothing to so with my.... Past. When I got there I was caught totally by surprise and I have already conceded your point about responding to you when you called out to me." "Here's my issue," Ethan said, "being caught off guard or not, concern for Vanessa's safety should have overridden any surprise but it didn't, you hauled ass and didn't look back. How can I be certain that you'll be able to keep her safe?" Ethan's reaction to him made sense now, he was a rapist and abuser of women and the thought that something like that could happen to Vanessa frightened him even though he wasn't about to come out and say it. The question was how to convince him that he would and could keep Vanessa safe. "What is it that you need from me?" Luc asked. The question seemed to surprise Ethan. "I need to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that you will be able to care for and protect Vanessa even at the cost of your life and right now, I don't think you can give me that." "Now wait a damned minute!" Luc said angrily, "You are judging me on one incident? If I had any thought that Vanessa or Veronica was in danger I would have defended them but as I said, I sensed no danger. Now, you can accept that or not, it no longer concerns me but Vanessa does." Ethan's opinion of Luc changed-slightly. "When I first found out that you were Vanessa's father, I became nervous, after all you are the great Ethan Sinclaire but now I no longer care about that. My only concern is Vanessa's happiness and if she asks me to go away then I will but I will continue to try to win her heart." Something about Luc reminded Ethan a little of himself, maybe that was why the strong reaction to him. That and the fact that he ran off. The last comment reminded him of what he had promised himself after he had raped Katrina. He also sensed that Luc no longer cared about what he thought about him and that the only opinion that counted as far as he concerned was Vanessa's. "Alright Luc." Ethan said, "I'm going to give you the same warning that I gave Rik, if anything happens to my daughter I will kill you no questions asked. Is that understood?" It wasn't a ringing endorsement by any stretch of the imagination but it wasn't a flat out rejection of him either. He had another chance to earn the respect of Ethan Sinclaire. "I understand why you're so angry and that you do not trust me to keep Vanessa safe but you have my word that I will do everything possible to ensure that no harm comes to her." Ethan nodded, he had to accept that and believed that Luc would try to protect Vanessa, but he did respect the fact that he hadn't backed down from him and was willing to consider that the initial contact was a one time deal and that Luc's mind really was on other things. That didn't negate the fact that Vanessa's safety should have superseded any thoughts but he didn't think that she was in danger. "I'm being an over protective father." Ethan thought to himself but he knew that if his first contact with Luc had been different he wouldn't be worried about Vanessa's safety. "I believe that we understand each other." Ethan said as he stood and extended his hand. Luc took it without hesitation but understood that he would be watched. He shook Ethan's hand grateful that the interview was over and that Ethan didn't hate him. "I'll ask you the same question that I asked Rik." Ethan said, "Have you seen Vanessa's temper?" "Yes and all I can say is wow!" Ethan laughed, "Wow is right, she doesn't get angry often but when she does..." "Believe me; I do not plan to make her angry again." "Smart man." Ethan replied chuckling, "we'd better go before Vanessa thinks that I've executed you or something." "Please, just a moment more." Luc said, "I know that we began this relationship on the wrong foot and for that I am sorry but understand this, Vanessa is not only your daughter but my mate and I will not allow you or anyone else to stand between us." "Glad to hear it." Ethan said totally nonplussed by Luc's declaration, "now let's go." ******** Vanessa paced for several minutes, sat down and then got up to pace again. Luc had been with her father much longer than Rik had been and that wasn't good. "Vanessa sit down." Veronica said, "I'm sure he's fine." Vanessa ignored Veronica and turned to Katrina. "Do you know why dad is so mad at Luc?" she asked. "No I'm sorry but I don't." Katrina replied. She was just as curious as Vanessa was because Ethan hadn't mentioned meeting Luc before. "I think that I might know the reason for his anger." Rik said. All eyes went to him. "Why?" Veronica asked. "The night he went to talk to you he mentioned that there was a guard." Rik said, "He didn't want trouble so he left without answering the hail. The guard was your father...." "And he thinks that Luc can't or won't protect me." Vanessa finished as she sat down. Because of Ethan's own personal background Vanessa knew that this was no minor thing. The safety of all of them was at the top of his list. She could only hope that Luc was able to convince him otherwise, she didn't want to have to choose between her father and her mate.... It would break her heart but Ethan would lose. It was another fifteen minutes before they heard the door to the study open. Vanessa stood up and waited, she would know by the expression on Luc's face how it went. ******* Ethan stopped Luc just before he opened the door. "You do understand that what I felt had nothing to do with not liking you don't you?" "I hadn't realized that." Luc replied honestly. "It didn't but it has everything to do with what I was- a rapist and what I am- a father. My family means more to me than any amount of money and I am now depending on you and your brother to help keep them safe as we will help keep you safe." "I understand." Luc replied, "We have the same goals in mind." Ethan nodded and opened the door. ******* Finally they heard voices coming toward them. All of them were relieved that the voices didn't sound angry or tense. As soon as she saw Luc, Vanessa ran to him and hugged him. "I am fine." Luc said hugging her back. There was another thing that he needed to find out, was it acceptable to kiss one's mate in the presence of others? At home it as a given but here? He just didn't know. There had already been one misunderstanding about the speed in which he and Rik had claimed the twins and he wanted no more problems. "Katrina sweetheart," Ethan said, "Meet Luc Gabriel, mate to our Vanessa." Katrina let out a sigh of relief; whatever the issue had been was resolved for the time being. She walked over to Luc who as Rik had done kissed the back of her hand. "Welcome." she said softly. "The honor and pleasure are mine." Luc replied. "Luc, Rik." Ethan called, "why don't we have a drink in the study?" The brothers looked at each other and then at their mates before following Ethan. As soon as they were gone, the room erupted in excited chatter. Katrina hugged both girls thankful that they had been found in the way that she wished that she had been found. "I suppose you'll want a wedding?" she teased. "Of course we do!" Veronica replied speaking for Vanessa. "I am so happy for the both of you and I like your mates." Katrina said, "so when would you like to have the wedding and tomorrow is too soon." she added laughing. She knew the twins well. "Two weeks?" Vanessa asked. Veronica gave it some thought, "two weeks is fine." she agreed. Katrina got pens and some paper and handed some to each girl. They both knew what to do, it was the same thing they did when they were old enough to help plan their birthday parties. Each wrote down what they wanted for the party and then compared notes. The last step was to consolidate the list that way each of them had something that they wanted for the party. "We'll meet a couple of days from now and begin planning." Katrina said. ******** Ethan handed each brother a goblet of wine and invited them to sit down. The stern, intimidating father that they had seen not that long ago was gone but was barely beneath the surface. "I just wanted to give them a few minutes to talk." Ethan said as he sat down. "I suppose you know that I had both of you investigated." "We are aware of that fact." Rik said, "It didn't surprise me in the least." "Really? Why is that?" Ethan asked. "I would have done the same." Rik replied. They talked about other things and finding out that they all had a mutual love of sports. "Katrina doesn't watch but the girls do, they were athletes in high school." Ethan said. "That is good news." Luc said as he visualized Sunday afternoons watching whatever sport happened to be in season on television with Vanessa at his side. After fifteen minutes they rejoined the women in the living room. The two couples said their goodbyes and headed out to their car leaving a happy but pensive Katrina and Ethan alone. "Are you alright?" he asked hugging Katrina from behind. "Our babies have grown up." she said softly. "Yes they have but what else?" Katrina hesitated. "Tell me." Ethan urged. "I was just wishing that we had met like that and how happy I am that their meeting was a good one." "I was thinking the same thing." Ethan replied squeezing her tighter. ******* Vanessa and Veronica were talking at the same time and at a mile a minute. "Where are we going to live?" one would ask, "I don't know." the other replied before the question was completely asked. Neither Rik nor Luc could get a word in to make a suggestion. Finally Luc whistled and spoke when there was finally silence. "I have a suggestion." he said. "You have the floor." Veronica said. "Thank you." Luc said and continued with his idea, "Our home has two wings that are fully furnished and is connected by a communal living area which includes a kitchen. My suggestion is this, Rik and I will buy the house and you and Vanessa move there." "I think that is a good idea." Rik said. Vanessa and Veronica looked at each other and shrugged. "We want to see the house first." Vanessa said. "That is no problem." Luc said, "So my love, what do you like to eat for breakfast?" ******* The vampire sat at his desk with his feet propped up thinking of what his options were. He hated the Sinclaire family with a passion that he couldn't even begin to describe. They had taken something very precious from him and he wanted to take something from them. That he had waited so long to decide what he was going to do had just complicated things. Once he decided upon his course of action and began to make plans the mates of the twins showed up. He was going to take one of the twins and he really didn't care which one. He only wanted Ethan and Katrina Sinclaire to feel the pain of loss and to feel the helplessness that accompanied that loss. He had let several opportunities pass him by thinking that he had time and that another opportunity would present itself but now he had the mates of the Sinclaire women to contend with. For now all he could do was watch and wait. He would learn the habits of the males and go from there but he did do something that helped ease his rage at the Sinclaire's. Vanessa and Veronica Sinclaire were in for a surprise when they went to their lab the next time. The vampire chuckled as he imagined the look on their faces and regretted not being there to see it. He stood up and stretched to his full six feet one inch height and vanished from where he stood, he had places to be.

Ethan was shocked, who would destroy the girl's lab and why? And what did they want him to see? Then there was the issue of sensing someone even though the security team didn't see or sense them. Ethan began to get a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What's going on?" Katrina asked. "I wish I knew." Ethan replied absently. "I'm going over to the lab you stay here with Victoria and don't let her out of your sight." "They wanted me to come too." Katrina replied. "I know but something's wrong and I need to know that you and Victoria are safe." Ethan replied. "Stay in the house and I'll be back soon." Ethan was gone a few minutes later after kissing her and then Victoria goodbye. "Make sure that you stay with your mom and that you listen to her." Ethan admonished. "What's wrong papa?" Victoria asked worriedly. "Probably nothing but be a good girl and listen to your mom." Ethan replied. Victoria gave him a nervous smile and then nodded her head. Ethan took Katrina by the hand and led her to the door. "I sensed someone outside but the guards didn't." he told her. He had learned long ago not to try to keep things from her, it always came back to bite him in the ass. "Alright and that means what?" Katrina asked. "I don't know but I have a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach especially since the girl's lab has been broken into." Ethan replied. "I don't want to scare you but please stay indoors until I come back." Ethan stepped outside and looked around trying to sense something about whoever had been there. Not once did he doubt what he sensed, someone had been on their property. ******* Vanessa looked around her room stunned; the amount of rage directed at her was staggering. She wracked her brain trying to think who would be this angry at her and could think of no one. Tears ran down her face as she looked around her room trying to understand why someone would leave a corpse on her bed and her walls coated with animal blood. It wasn't a fresh body but one that had been exhumed. The body was dressed in one of Vanessa's outfits holding dead flowers in its bony hands. Who ever had brought the body in had gone so far as to apply some of Vanessa's make up to the corpse. Vanessa began to shake but not with fear but pure anger. She felt Anger that someone would remove a body from its resting place, anger that they had entered into her private place and desecrated it with the blood of what they knew to be a large animal of some kind. Luc tightened his arms around Vanessa as her trembling increased. It took him several minutes to realize that she was trembling in anger. "Who would do this?" She asked Veronica. Veronica was at a loss for words. Of the two of them she was the one that trampled on people's toes and Vanessa was the one who soothed the hurts away, it just didn't make sense unless... "Nessa, what if who did this chose you because he thinks that you would be an easier mark?" She asked. Vanessa, Luc and Rik looked at her. "Vanessa? An easy mark?" Luc asked remembering the brief show of her temper. "Yes, just hear me out." Veronica said, "Anyone who knows us knows that I'm the one or I was the one with the temper. Even when we were kids I was the one who got into fights while Vanessa was the peacemaker, I mean until that night the restaurant I didn't even know that she had a temper like that." "What you are saying," Luc said, "is that if you didn't know then neither would anyone else." "Exactly, we....." "Shit!" they heard come from the front of the lab, "what in the hell..." ******** Ethan walked into the lab and stopped in his tracks, the first thing that hit him was the stench of spoiled blood. The second thing that hit him was the amount of damage that was done to the lab; he could almost feel the hatred as he looked around the room. He began to run through his list of enemies and the list was quite long but none of them were stupid enough to piss in his back yard but someone had. Suddenly Ethan knew that whoever had done this was the same person that he sensed in his yard. He knew something else, whoever it was wasn't really after the girls at least not in the traditional sense, and they were after him and using the girls to do it. The question was how he and Ethan was convinced it was a male had managed to get by his security and how he had gotten into the lab. He didn't even know the access code to get in and as far as he knew only the girls, Patrick and now their mates knew the code. The amount of damage told Ethan that the male was completely out of control and that both girls were in danger, they had to find a new lab and there was going to be security whether they wanted it or not. "Dad!" Vanessa cried out as she broke free from Luc and threw herself into Ethan's arms. "Are you alright?" he asked kissing Vanessa's head. "I'm fine just mad as hell!" she exclaimed her temper showing, "Just look at this mess!" she added looking around the lab. "My only concern is you and everyone else." Ethan replied, "You mom said that you wanted us to see something?" "Yes, where is mom?" Veronica asked. "I had her stay home with Victoria." Ethan replied. "All is well?" Luc asked. "I don't think so." Ethan replied and then told them about the intruder he sensed at the house. "You're saying that this is connected?" Vanessa asked. "I think so." Ethan replied but show me what you wanted me to see. Ethan stared at the body in total shock. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this. The smell of spoiled blood was almost overwhelming as he approached the body on Vanessa's bed. It was then that his suspicions were confirmed; this was very personal but why involve the girls? When he got to the bed he looked at the body. He didn't recognize her but knew that somehow her identity was a part of whatever was going on. Ethan took out his phone and called Katrina. "Is everything alright there?" he asked. "So far." Katrina replied, "What's going on there?" "I'll explain when I get back, where's Victoria?" "Here with me.... Ethan what's going on?" Katrina asked now concerned, "is everyone alright?" "They're fine." Ethan replied "But I want to bring them home with me." "I'll get the rooms ready." Katrina replied. "Fine but keep Victoria with you." ******** He chuckled softly as he thought about Ethan's reaction to his presence and wished that he could have seen Vanessa's reaction to her room. It really wasn't anything personal it was just that her room was so immaculate that it was worthy of leaving his beloved there. The other room was.... At any rate, Vanessa's room was worthy and that was all that mattered. He was certain that Ethan would be called and he was certain that Ethan suspected that someone was after him and his precious family. He wished that he could take them all but one of them was all that he was permitted, a life for a life. He was also aware that they would all think that Vanessa was the target that had been unintentional but to his benefit. He had thought to take one of them and do to them what had been done to his beloved but he didn't think that he could, doing so would have made him as bad as them. He would be satisfied with knowing that they would suffer as he had and was. That he would die was of no consequence as long as he took one of the females with him. The chuckles turned into soft sobs as he remembered his beloved and the way that he found her. She was so beautiful with long red hair and green eyes. Her skin was almost flawless and her laugh... it reminded him of tinkling bells. She had brought out the very best in him; her death had brought out the worst. "I miss you Rosie." he murmured. In some ways he blamed himself for her rape and subsequent death. If he would have just claimed her she would be with him now. But he hadn't, he wanted to take the time to really get to know her, he wanted to court her and present her with a diamond, all of it but it never happened. He remembered it as if it had just happened instead of fifty years ago. That it wasn't Ethan that raped her was immaterial, it was fact that he admitted that he could have done something centuries before. He knew that what they were doing was wrong and he allowed it to continue stopping it too late to save Rosie. He wasn't sure when he started thinking about revenge. Maybe it was when he decided to kill himself, it was then that he decided that it just wasn't fair so he watched and waited. When Ethan mated with the woman that he had raped and they had children the injustice of it all hit him. He would never have another mate and would never know the joys of holding a child and Ethan had all of those things and now his children would be having children two of them anyway. ********* "Do you know her?" Veronica asked. "No at least I don't think that I do." Ethan replied looking up from the corpse and at the blood splattered room. "Was anything left in Veronica's room? He asked. "Not that we can tell." Vanessa said earning a glare from her sister. "What do you think is going on?" she asked. "Something very personal." Ethan replied "I know that you're newly mated but I want you all at the house." Luc bristled and caught Ethan's attention. "This has nothing to do with whether I feel that you can keep Vanessa safe; it's about safety in numbers. Whoever did this was able to approach the house without the guards noticing. I have Katrina and Vanessa under guard and in the same room as we speak." "Do you think that someone is after us?" Veronica asked. "I don't know what to think but I believe that it's a possibility." Ethan replied, "It'll be easier to keep everyone safe if we're together." Ethan waited for a few seconds; he was fully prepared to force the issue if he had to. "We will meet you there." Rik said seeing and conceding Ethan's point. "Fine and I'll send some people to clean up this mess." Ethan said looking around the room again. "What about her?" Luc asked meaning the corpse. "She goes with us." Ethan said, "I think that she's at the center of whatever is going on." ********** Victoria was going stir crazy, she wasn't used to being confined to just one room and she was beside herself with boredom. "Mom can I go outside?" Victoria asked. "For the tenth time, no!" Katrina said a little sharper than she had intended. "I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to be sharp with you but you can't go outside until we know that it's safe." Victoria started to argue that they had guards but held her tongue. It was a rare occurrence to see her mother so anxious and when she stopped to think about it, her father was tense. Instead of arguing Victoria turned on her laptop to play a game of scrabble against the computer. As she waited for the game to load, she felt someone outside. She looked over at Katrina who was working on her laptop and then at the window. She was about to go see who or what was outside when Ethan appeared in front of her. "Where were you going?" he asked scooping her up in his arms. He knew how hard it had to have been for her being confined to the one room. Victoria squealed in surprise and the laughed in delight as Ethan swung her around until she was dizzy. "Papa!" she laughed, "stop!" Ethan kissed the laughing girl and sat her on her feet holding on to her until she was steady. Katrina watched them with a smile on her face, the twins had stopped calling them "papa and mama" by the time they were Victoria's age they had long outgrown enjoying the games that Victoria still took delight in. "Are they alright?" she asked after a moment. "They're fine and they're coming here to stay until we know what's happening." Ethan replied as he walked over to Katrina and kissed her before sitting down to tell her about the lab and the corpse. "You have no idea of who she is?" Katrina asked. "Not a clue but she's at the center of this." "Ethan.... Is it possible that she was a victim? One of yours maybe?" Katrina asked. The thought had already crossed his mind and more than likely the woman had been a victim to one of them which meant that whoever destroyed the lab and whoever had been in the yard was the same person. It also explained the rage that Ethan felt when he walked into the lab; the woman had been the mate of a vampire. He couldn't have claimed her or else she wouldn't have been raped Ethan realized as he began to run all of the possibilities through his head. There were hundreds if not thousands of possibilities that could only be narrowed down if they found out who the woman was. "It's possible." Ethan conceded, "We have to find out who she was." Katrina hesitated, she knew that the corpse was going to be brought home and she didn't know how she felt about that. "Does she have to come here?" she asked. "We could take her somewhere else...... Victoria!" Ethan yelled just as he sensed the presence again and saw Victoria headed for the door. He vanished from where he was sitting to the door getting there just as she was reaching for the doorknob. "Where are you going?" he asked. "I.... there was someone outside asking if he could come in." Victoria replied. Ethan vanished outside and looked around inhaling deeply trying to pick up on the scent. He felt his anger growing that someone would dare approach his home and threaten what was his. As he stood outside Vanessa, Luc, Veronica and Rik pulled up. "What are you doing?" Veronica asked as she got out of the car. "He was here." Ethan said, his blue eyes flashing in anger as he continued to look around the property. "Richard!" he shouted. "Yes sir?" asked a vampire that appeared in front of Ethan. "Did you see, hear or smell anything out of place in the last ten minutes?" Richard frowned, "No sir, no one has been here other than us, you and your family." ******* He watched as Ethan went back into his home followed by his daughters and their mates. He had almost gotten caught and by a child no less! "Interesting" he mused as he watched them go into the house. They were doing what the Sinclaires did best... circling the wagons. He went back to the lab to retrieve the body of his beloved not thinking that they would have taken it. He went through the lab and to Vanessa's room where he stopped and looked at the empty bed in shock and pain. "No!!" he screamed. And made himself calm, this ended tonight and he didn't care which of the women he took. ******** Ethan and Katrina let the girls show their mates where they would be sleeping. Victoria they decided would sleep in their room. That she could sense someone that no one else other than Ethan could sense concerned all of them. "I'm not a baby!" "We know you aren't a baby." Katrina soothed. "So why can't I sleep in my own room?" Victoria asked pouting. "You stay in here with us, end of discussion." Ethan said firmly. "Now your mom will go with you to your room so that you can change into your pajamas and get ready for bed now scoot." Victoria looked at Ethan and then Katrina and back at Ethan again. She couldn't remember the last time he had used that tone with her any more than she could remember the last time her mother had snapped at her and the last time there had been something wrong too. "Yes papa." Victoria said quietly as she headed fore the door. "Victoria, come here." Ethan said gently. When she reached him he knelt before her and hugged her. "I'm sorry that I was so firm but there's someone who wants to hurt us and I need your complete obedience, do you understand?" "Is it the man that was outside?" she asked. "I think so and if he asks again about coming in the answer is no." Ethan replied. Victoria nodded, she wasn't going to let the man in anyway, he didn't feel right to her, he felt... sick and very, very angry at all of them but especially her father and she wanted to know why. She didn't bother to ask, he wouldn't have told her deeming her too young and he didn't want to frighten her. Victoria kissed Ethan on the cheek and headed to her room with Katrina following close behind. As Katrina and Vanessa left the room, a guard fell in behind them, when they reached Victoria's room one went in before them. ******** Vanessa, Luc, Veronica and Rik were sitting in the living room talking. "Who do you suppose she is?" Rik asked. "If I had to guess, I would say that she was a victim." Veronica said, "Whose is anybody's guess." "But what I don't understand is why now? That corpse has to be at least fifty years old and the last sanctioned rape was over twenty-five years ago." Veronica said. "Maybe he's been waiting for what he considers to be the right time." Luc said. "And what would make this the right time?" Vanessa asked. "Us." Luc said. "Us?" the girls asked at once. "Let us think about this," Luc said, "when did the trouble start?" When no one answered, he answered, "it was soon after Rik and I found you. Whoever this is has become .... Enraged, that is what we saw at the lab and the corpse? She is his." "Why did he leave her there?" Veronica asked. "He wants us to know the reason for his anger..... Fuck!" Luc exclaimed. "What?" they all asked startled by Luc's outburst. "We weren't supposed to take her; we were just supposed to see her." "You think that he went back for her don't you?" Veronica asked. "Luc is right" Rik said. "Neither of us was thinking but then we didn't know what was happening and my guess is that he already knows she's gone and that we've got her and if he hasn't gone over the edge, he has now." ******** His room was totally destroyed. "How can you take her from me again!" he screamed at no one in particular but meaning the Sinclaires. Tonight one of them would die and although he said that it didn't matter which one, it wouldn't be the child even though her death would hurt them more than any of the others. Before anything else happened, he had to find Rosie and bring her back so that he could prepare her for their final departure. When he took the Sinclaire woman who was to pay the ultimate price for the sins of the family, He would be merciful, he wouldn't torture or needlessly hurt her, she wouldn't even see it coming which is more than they did for Rosie. He left his room and went to the room that he had specifically chosen for his final hours. The blue dress that he had chosen for Rosie was laid out on the bed waiting to be worn by her. It had taken some doing but he had finally located a vintage dress shop that had a dress similar to the one that Rosie had been wearing when he first found her. The shoes sat at the foot of the bed, they were a perfect match for the dress.... They were the original shoes, the only part of her outfit that he had been able to save. "Soon my love." he murmured as he vanished from the room to begin his search for Rosie. Nothing else could or would be done until he found her. ******* "What now?" Vanessa asked, "Can we take her back to the lab?" "I do not think so, if I am correct, he has already been there and knows that we have her." "I think that we must talk to your father." Rik said, "Maybe he has thought of something." "I'll go get him." Vanessa said. "I'm here." Ethan replied coming into the living room followed by Katrina and Victoria. Luc waited until they were sitting and explained the situation. "You're saying that we have to find someway of getting her back to him." Katrina said. "Exactly." Luc said. Ethan sat back in his chair his fingers tapping the arms as he thought about what to do next. "He's been here twice, the first time I sensed him the second time Victoria did and he asked her to let him in." All eyes went to Victoria who knew what they wanted. She quickly told them of the brief interaction between her and the unknown vampire. When she was finished Luc spoke. "Giving her back isn't going to change anything, he still wants someone to die." "Then I'll meet him." Ethan said. "He doesn't want you." Luc said, "He wants you to suffer as he has." "How do you know this?" Ethan asked. "I don't know" Luc replied, "I just do...." "What else do you know?" Ethan asked. Luc put his arm around Vanessa, "he wants one of our mates and he doesn't care which one. Victoria is exempt but only because of her age." "Where is he?" Ethan asked. "Close and whoever he is? He is much older than you, the things that he can do attest to that." "Is there anyway to stop him?" Katrina asked. "Other than killing him? Nothing." Luc replied, "And he plans on dying. He knows exactly who he's fucking with but he simply doesn't care." "Shit." Ethan swore, "We need to find him." "No." Katrina said, "He'll come here. " Maybe we can leave the body on a table in the front and we can catch him then." There was a long silence as everyone thought about Katrina's suggestion. Reluctantly they all agreed that there was really no other option. Luc and Rik went to retrieve the corpse from the garage while Ethan carried a table from the house to the front yard. Katrina and the girls got blankets to cover the table and the corpse with and a pillow for her head. As they situated the body on the table, Ethan touched a bony cheek. "I am so very sorry for what we did to you and your mate." he said knowing how inadequate the apology was. They all turned to walk back to the house when they heard the sound of rustling blankets. As one they stopped, turned and gasped. The body was gone but the blankets and pillow lay in a heap on the table. Ethan looked around trying to sense the vampire but he was gone for now. ****** He kissed Rosie's cold bony cheek and held her close to him. "I am so sorry to have used you like that but they needed to see you." he said as he laid her gently on the bed and began to undress her. "Soon we will be together." Twenty minutes later the corpse that had been at one time Rosalind Jean Palmer was dressed and lying on the bed holding a fresh bouquet of flowers in her hands. He kissed her cold lips, murmured a promise to return soon and vanished. ****** Three couples and one child sat together in the living room waiting for something to happen. Each of them were hoping that whoever the vampire was would be appeased by the care that they had given his mate and would either go on his way or confront them openly. "Mama I'm hungry" Victoria said standing and heading toward the kitchen. "You stay here." Veronica said, "I'll go get you something, anyone else?" "I'll come too." Rik said. "No, I'll be fine; she just wants her cookies and a glass of milk." Veronica replied. Ten minutes later she hadn't come back. Rik went to the kitchen to see what was keeping her. He let out an anguished cry as he saw the back door flung wide open and a bouquet of dead flowers in the doorway.

Veronica blinked rapidly, "What the hell?" she asked as she looked around. She had gone to the kitchen to get Victoria cookies and milk, Rik had wanted to come with her, she told him that she would be fine... and why wouldn't she be? She was in the house! Then she saw something at the back door, a face but she felt no threat but a great deal of pain, sorrow and sadness. She remembered going to the door, she had no intentions of opening it but she did. The emotions of the vampire standing on the back steps almost overwhelmed her. Veronica had never considered herself the most empathetic of vampires but the pain and suffering... she hadn't planned to step outside any more than she had planned to open the door but she did and now she was .... Wherever here was. She looked around the small room and tried to stand. "You cannot break those chains." a voice said from behind her. "Who are you?" Veronica asked as she tried to turn to see who was behind her. "My name does not matter." he replied. "Well it matters to me!" Veronica shot back, her temper flaring. "Very well but it won't mean much to you nor will your knowing it change anything." the voice said. "My name is Bradford Jefferson." "Alright Mr. Jefferson, who was the corpse?" she asked in full no nonsense Veronica mode. Bradford blinked, here she was chained to a chair and she was demanding answers. The impressive thing was that there wasn't a trace of fear but much curiosity. "Are you not afraid?" he asked. "Would it help if I said yes?" Veronica asked. "No." Bradford replied, "It would change nothing." "Then no I'm not afraid." Veronica replied, "But I will admit to being as mad as hell. So who was the corpse?" Instead of answering her Bradford left the room closing and locking the door behind him. ******* Everyone ran into the kitchen when they heard Rik call out. "Wha....." then Ethan saw the open door and the dead flowers on the doorstep. Katrina stopped dead in her tracks her dark eyes filled with fear and fury. It was the soft sobbing of Victoria that calmed her. "We'll find her." Katrina soothed hugging the crying girl. "M....my fault... M... I..." she sobbed. "No it isn't." Katrina said. "B... I wanted cookies and...." Ethan tamped down his anger and picked Victoria up. "This isn't your fault! Do you understand? It's the fault of whoever who took her and we're going to find her." Victoria looked tearfully at Rik, "I...." was all that she got out before she shattered into tears. Rik like Ethan swallowed his anger and went to Victoria, "No little one, it is not your fault and I swear to you we will bring her back." "Rik, Luc you start searching the property, Vanessa and Katrina you stay here in case she comes back," Ethan said as he took out his cell phone. "Katrina baby, pack a bag for Victoria, I'm calling Mason to see if she can stay with him and Toni until this is over." Victoria started to cry even harder, "Please don't make me go! I want to stay here and help look for Ronnie!" "No sweetheart, we need to know that you're safe." Ethan replied. "Come on pumpkin." Vanessa said taking Victoria's hand. "I'll pack some of your cookies." Katrina said thinking that it would help. Victoria pulled away from Vanessa, walked to the counter where the cookie jar was, picked it up and threw it out of the open back door as hard as she could with a scream of rage. She sobbed as the ceramic jar hit a tree and then shattered. "Mason and Toni will be here in about an hour," Ethan said as he picked up a still sobbing Victoria. He held her until her sobs were sniffles and she was hiccupping. "Alright baby, go with your mom and Vanessa." "Papa?" "Yes baby?" "Hurry up and find her." ******** Rik took the back of the property with Luc taking the front. Security combed the entire area looking in every building there was and then extended the search beyond the perimeters of Ethan's considerable property. Ethan was going to call Patrick but decided to wait; Martin, Rachel and their boys were on the way as well as other friends and relatives, which included Maryanne, her husband and his family. He would call Patrick if they hadn't found Veronica by morning. He knew that they were just getting home and he didn't want to alarm them just yet. After all of the necessary calls completed, Ethan kissed Katrina, Vanessa and Victoria goodbye. Victoria clung to him so tightly that he had to peel her arms from around his neck. "Papa please don't make me go!" she begged again. "Ethan?" Mason called out as he walked into the kitchen. "Veronica is missing?" he asked. "Yes, I'll let Katrina fill you in and thank you and Toni both for taking care of Victoria but I've got to go." A few minutes later, he was gone. Mason bent down to Victoria, "hey kiddo." "H...hi Uncle Mason" "Ready to go? I promise that you can call as many times as you want and you won't even have to go to bed until Veronica is found." Reluctantly Victoria took Mason's hand. Her bag was waiting by the front door having been packed by Katrina. "Victoria, do you remember Toni? My wife and this is our son Jamie." "H...Hi." Victoria said still sniffling. "Hi Victoria." Toni said bending over as far as her large pregnant belly would allow. "I know that you're scared and that you want to stay and help but the best way to do that is if you come with us." Victoria slowly nodded her head as the tears began anew. Twenty-one year old Jamie looked at the sobbing girl and felt a pull on his heart, the need to soothe and protect her hit him so hard that his head spun. He knew exactly who this girl was. That it would be years before they could be anymore than friends didn't matter... he could wait for centuries if he had to but his priority was the here and now. "Come on squirt." he said lightly, "I'll even let you beat me in scrabble." Victoria's eyes flashed, "Squirt? My name is Victoria!" she said her voice full of indignation. "Victoria then," Jamie said with a smile, getting to know Victoria Sinclaire and watching her grow up was going to be interesting indeed. ********** Veronica was getting angrier by the minute, "Hey!" she called out several times and then stopped realizing that as long as Bradford wasn't in the room with her it gave Rik and the others more time to find her. She had no plans of just sitting there and waiting for them to find her, she'd kick his ass herself if she had too. In the meantime, she had to use her head. She remembered how surprised he had been when she told him that she wasn't afraid of him. It was then that she realized that he didn't know what to make of her; she wasn't what he was expecting. He was expecting her to cry, beg and plead for her life and she sure as hell wasn't about to do that, she would die fighting him first. However, she was curious about him as well. She really wanted to know who the woman was and why he waited so long to seek his vengeance. ****** Bradford stood outside of the door wishing now that he had taken the child; the one that he had taken unnerved him with her calm acceptance of her fate. He didn't like the way that she seemed to be turning him into one of her subject matter that she studied in her lab. He took a deep breath and silently went back into the room. "I know that you're back there." Veronica said in a matter of fact tone, "You didn't answer my question, who was the corpse?" When he didn't answer, Veronica continued. "Let's get a few things straight so that we don't waste time. If you're waiting for me to beg, cry and plead for my life it isn't going to happen. We both know that it won't make any difference...." "You think that they are going to save you." Bradford stated calmly. "Do you think that they won't?" Veronica challenged. "I think that they will try" Bradford replied, "But they won't succeed." "Why don't we agree to disagree and you tell me about the woman, was she your mate?" Bradford was struck by the fact that Veronica had yet to ask about why he took her. She seemed more interested in knowing about Rosie than she did about his plans to kill her. Bradford hesitated; the truth was Veronica Sinclaire intrigued him. "Why do you care?" He asked. "Curiosity." Veronica replied. "You think to study me?" he asked irritated. "No not really and how could I do that if I'm going to die?" she asked. "She was my mate." Bradford said softly, "I hadn't claimed her yet because I wanted to take my time in getting to know her.... If I had claimed her...." Veronica listened as Bradford's demeanor changed. She could hear the same pain, sadness and rage that she saw in his face when he came to the house. For just a moment, she felt sorry for him but then her anger rose. She forced it down; it wouldn't do to antagonize him even more before she was freed from the chains. "So why didn't you claim her?" Veronica asked trying to get Bradford back on track. "I wanted to take my time in getting to know her." he replied. "I have always found our way of mating so.... Fast ands after looking for her for centuries, I wanted to take my time and relish every moment that it took to get to know her as a person and as my mate. Had I even suspected that she was going to be defiled by one of yours...." the anger rose again barely controlled. "Tell me about her." Veronica said wishing that Bradford would stand where she could see him. "Again, I ask you." Bradford said, "Why do you care?" Veronica shrugged her shoulders rattling the heavy chains, "Curious." she replied. "Why are you standing behind me?" she asked a challenge in her voice. ******** Rik was searching to the left of the property calling to Veronica telepathically and becoming more anxious when he received no response. The only thing that he knew for sure was that she wasn't dead, he would have felt it, and with that knowledge in mind, he continued his search. After ten minutes, he stopped short, something that Ethan said hit him; Ethan could sense the vampire and so could Victoria but none of the rest of them could. That told him something, one the vampire was an ancient, he had to be in order to do the things that he did. Rik believed that the vampire specifically made a point of revealing himself to Ethan in order to taunt him. The reason for Victoria being able to sense the vampire nagged at Rik as there could be any number of reasons, but he was guessing that she had an innate ability to do so and that was something that the vampire hadn't been expecting. When he asked Victoria to let him in, it was a spur of the moment decision that failed. It made Rik wonder if the fact that Victoria could sense the vampire was why he didn't wait or try to find an opportunity to take her. She would have been the most logical choice, as brave as she was; she was still a child and would have been frightened and more easily controlled where as Veronica..... Rik smiled, the vampire was in for a rude awakening. He headed back to the house, they needed to keep Victoria with them, she was going to be important in finding Veronica. ********* As Ethan searched the furthest parts of his property, he wondered about his decision no to call Patrick. Patrick would want to know no matter what else was going on in his own life. It was just that he didn't want Kevyn's first experience with her new family to be like this but it couldn't be helped. He took out his cell phone and dialed Patrick's number. "When did you get back?" Ethan asked. "A couple of hours ago." Patrick replied, "What's happening?" Ethan hesitated and then told Patrick about Veronica's disappearance. "Do you know who has her?" Patrick asked. "We believe that it is the mate of one of our victims and so far out of all of us only Victoria and I are able to sense him." Ethan replied. "I'm on my way." Patrick said. "Go to the house, I'll meet you there." Ethan said, "Patrick? I'm sorry that your mate has to meet us under these circumstances." "Me too, I'll see you soon." Patrick replied and hung up. Ethan was surprised to see Victoria still at the house when he returned. "Why are you still here?" he asked Mason. "That is my fault." Rik said before Mason could respond. Ethan turned toward Rik his eyes filled with fury, "You have no right to make any decisions regarding Victoria! You should have gone with Veronica when she went to the kitchen..." "Ethan!" Katrina said firmly and took his arm. "It's water under the bridge! Now listen to what Rik has to say and just for the record, I was the one who made the decision about whether Victoria leaves or not." Ethan took a deep breath, the anger fading from his eyes as he looked at Rik. "Rik, I'm sorry...." "Please, no apologies." Rik said interrupting Ethan, "You are right; I should have gone with her." "Then he would have had both of you." Victoria said softly. All eyes went to Victoria. "Why do you say that?" Luc asked. "I... I don't know." Victoria replied. "I just know that he's very angry at us and that he's very old, much older than papa and Uncle Mason." "Do you not see?" Rik asked Ethan, "out of all of us, you and Victoria are the only ones that can sense him. I believe that in your case, he chose to allow it but in Victoria's case, it is an innate ability that he hadn't planned on. I've tried calling out to Veronica but I hit nothing but dead space." "So you're thinking that Victoria can help us track him is that it?" Ethan asked. "Yes, but I am also wondering if Victoria can reach Veronica telepathically. For one so young she is quite strong..." "I'll try!" Victoria exclaimed relieved to be able to help in some small way. "Victoria...." Ethan called. "Please papa, let me try." "Ethan and Katrina, a word please." Mason said and stepped away. "I know that Victoria isn't my child but you know that I love her and the twins as if they were but you must let her help." "She's a child!" Ethan replied. "Yes and a very precocious one at that." Mason agreed, "But if you don't allow her to help in some way she will always feel responsible if this doesn't turn out well. She already feels at fault and if she isn't allowed to help, she will always feel as though she did nothing. Even it she tries and fails, that will be better than the alternative." "Ethan, he's right." Katrina agreed, "I would be less than honest if I said that I'm scared but we have to let her help." Ethan looked over at Victoria who was standing next to Jamie biting her lip nervously. Ethan looked back at Mason who gave a quick nod of his head. Ethan nodded back and went back to the group followed by Katrina and Mason. "Victoria and Katrina, come with me for a moment." he said holding out his hands. When they were away from the group, Ethan knelt down in front of Victoria. "Victoria, none of this is your fault, you know that don't you?" Her silence told him that she still believed that it was. "Baby, it wasn't." Katrina said kneeling down next to Ethan, "you couldn't have known what was going to happen." Victoria didn't reply but began to cry again, no matter what anyone said, Veronica's disappearance was her fault and she was going to help find her even if she had to run away to do it. Ethan realized that Mason was right, it they didn't let Victoria help in some way.... "Alright pumpkin." Ethan said, "Before I say yes to anything I need your word on a few things. The first thing is that you will do as you're told without question or argument, can you give me your word on that?" "Yes papa!" Victoria replied. She would have promised never to ask another questioned if that's what it took. "Good, I want your word that you won't go wandering off and that you will always stay within sight of an adult." "I promise." "Katrina what do you think?" Ethan asked already knowing the answer but it was important that Victoria know that she had the full support of both parents. "I agree but as soon as you disobey one time, it's done." "I promise to listen." Victoria said anxiously. They went back to the group and stood in front of Rik. Victoria reached out and took Rik's much larger hand in hers. "Tell me what to do." Rik looked down at her and knelt before her, "You are a very brave little girl." he told her. "I just want my sister back." Victoria said. "I can go back to being scared later." Rik pulled Victoria into his arms and hugged her, "Thank you little sister." he whispered in her ear. Victoria returned the hug and then broke away, she was anxious to get started. Rik and Victoria sat on the floor facing each other. Rik had Victoria's hands in his and spoke softly. "Close your eyes and try to empty your mind of everything except Veronica. Do not worry if it takes some time, it's hard to do. Once everything except for Veronica is gone from your mind, just say her name. You will know if you got through or not, I cannot explain the feeling but you will know." It took Victoria several tries before she felt ready enough to call to Veronica. "Ronnie?" she called telepathically. ******* "Why are you standing behind me?" Veronica asked again, "Don't I have the right to face my accuser?" "You are not accused of anything." Bradford replied. "Really?" Veronica snapped back, "You broke into our lab and destroyed a very expensive piece of equipment as well as invaluable data; you left a corpse on my sister's bed and spray painted the room with animal blood which by the way stank to high heaven and let's see what else? Oh you tried to get my little sister to let you in and then you convince me to leave the safety of the house and finally, you have me chained to a chair so tell me how I am not accused of anything." "I am not accusing you specifically." Bradford replied, "I...." "I what?" Veronica interrupted. "I get it, you're angry at my family for what happened to Rosie and I don't blame you, I would be angry too but here's my question, why didn't you confront my father face to face? He would have respected that but he sees this as cowardice and for cowards he had no respect and neither do I for that matter." "I am no coward!" Bradford exclaimed angrily. "So you say." Veronica replied calmly "yet here I am, a woman who is physically no match for you chained to a chair all because you're too afraid to talk to my father..." "I want him to feel loss!" Bradford screamed as he moved to stand before Veronica. "I want him to feel the pain that I have felt for the past decades. I want him to feel the helplessness that I felt when I found Rosie dead by her own hand; I want him to feel the anguish that I felt when one of them raped her, the guilt that I felt because I didn't protect her!" Veronica looked up at the face of a vampire who would have been handsome if not for the sadness and rage that was in his eyes and on his face. Tears ran down his face as he glared at her, "I want him to suffer." "I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened to you and Rosie." Veronica said, "But killing me isn't going to change anything." "No, it won't." Bradford agreed in a much calmer voice, "Why are you not threatening me with the fact that your father will kill me?" he asked. "Why state the obvious?" Veronica said, "Which brings up another point, this could have been over by now, if you had confronted him you would be dead by now; you would have let him kill you." "Yes, this is true but I had to see him frightened ....." "Frightened?" Veronica asked, "You obviously didn't do you research, all you've done is pissed him off....." "Ronnie?" Veronica heard in head. "Victoria?" she sent back. ********* Tears of relief and pain ran down Victoria's face when she heard Veronica reply. The pain was due to the massive headache she developed while trying to contact Veronica. She didn't let anyone know because if she did, they would have made her stop. Just hearing Veronica's voice made the pounding in her head worth it. "She answered me!" Victoria exclaimed and then threw up. When she opened her eyes, she was laying on the couch with a cold washcloth over her eyes and Jamie Donahue sitting on the end of the couch watching her. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Better, where's my mom?" "In the kitchen getting you something to drink." Jamie replied. "That was a very brave thing that you did." Victoria sat up just as Katrina came in with two glasses, one with water and the other filled with juice. "Drink all of it." she admonished. "Where's everybody?" Victoria asked as she took the glass of water. "In the other room..." "I need to talk to Ronnie again, this time it won't be as hard." "Squirt....." "I told you not to call me that!" Victoria said to Jamie before turning her attention back to Katrina. "Mama I have to, I can help find her and... I think that I can talk to him too." "Absolutely not!" Katrina exclaimed. Ethan came into the room followed by Patrick who was holding the hand of a woman that Victoria knew to be his mate. "Uncle Patrick!" Victoria screamed as she jumped off the couch and ran to him giving him her standard greeting. "Hey pumpkin!" Patrick greeted as he hugged her tight. "I hear that you've been quite the brave one." "Not really, I just want Ronnie back.... Is that your mate?" she asked looking at Kevyn. "Yes and when this mess is over you can visit so that you can get to know her better." "Okay but who's the lady with her?" Victoria asked. "That's Kevyn's sister Louise and no she doesn't know about us so be careful." "I get it." Victoria replied kissing Patrick on the cheek. Patrick sat Victoria on her feet and quickly introduced her to Kevyn and Louise. While the introductions were happening, Katrina told Ethan about what Victoria wanted to do and his reaction matched her. "There is no fucking way that I'm letting her do that!" he exclaimed. The fact that Ethan cursed told Katrina how strongly he felt about Victoria's idea. "I feel the same way." Katrina replied, "But what if it's the only way to save Veronica?" Ethan didn't reply but hugged Katrina close, he didn't want to think about another one of his girls being in danger. ******** Something had just happened, Bradford felt it and saw the surprise on Veronica's face. He wondered if they had been found already and how much time he had left before the entire Sinclaire clan pounced on him. "Who spoke to you?" he asked. "My sister, they're coming for me and please don't take that as the cliché and predictable response of someone in trouble. I think that you know by now that I don't play the poor me, have pity on me game. It was meant as a fact and not a hope or dream." Bradford looked at Veronica closely, she was telling the truth and if she got out of those chains, she would try to kill him. Logic told him to kill her right then and there but he didn't, he wanted to talk with her, he wanted to know where her courage came from. "Courage?" Veronica asked. "Courage my ass! I told you that I'm pissed off! However, back to my question, why are you so afraid to confront my father? After all you have a death wish, your kidnapping me tells me that... do you want to be a martyr? To be considered yet another victim to the Sinclaires? And are you that afraid of me that you keep me in chains?" "I fear no one!" Bradford exclaimed and slapped Veronica across the face hard enough that he drew blood. "Uh huh," Veronica replied with a smile, "so Brad, tell me about Rosie, what did she look like?" "What?" he asked thrown off by the sudden change of subject. "I mean if you're going to kill me, I would like to know about the woman who I am being killed for." Bradford hesitated, he really didn't want to tell this woman about Rosie but he felt compelled to tell her. Maybe it was because he felt that she was owed an explanation that he told her, he would never know. As soon as he began to describe Rosie, Veronica knew which of her relatives raped her.... Patrick. ******** Katrina took Kevyn aside. "I'm so sorry that your first time meeting us isn't a happy occasion." "No worries, I just hope that everything is alright." Kevyn replied. "Thank you for understanding." Katrina replied, "Maybe we can talk when this is over? Go to lunch or something." "I would like that." Kevyn replied, "And please let me know if I can help in any way." Katrina and Kevyn walked back to the group where a heated discussion was going on about Victoria reaching out to the vampire who had Veronica. Ethan was standing by his decision. "Reaching out to Veronica is one thing but to reach out to him is another thing entirely!" "I think that we're getting ahead of ourselves." Patrick said as Kevyn moved to his side, "Can we at least find out his name? It might help." Everyone turned to Victoria who was again standing next to Jamie, "I can ask her." she said answering the unspoken question. "If we allow you to do this," Katrina said, "you have to promise not to speak to him." "I promise." Victoria said placing her hand over her heart." Ten minutes later Victoria was sitting on the couch with Jamie standing behind her. If anyone noticed how protective he was, becoming no one said anything. Victoria closed her eyes and made contact with Veronica, this time being much easier than the first. "Ronnie? What's his name?" ****** This time when Veronica heard Victoria's voice she didn't jump. She didn't want to alert Bradford that she was talking with anyone from her family. "Ronnie? You there?" Victoria asked "I'm here and I'm ok for now, is Rik alright?" "He's fine, just worried about you." Victoria replied, "Do you know the name of the vampire who took you?" "Bradford Jefferson and the woman's name was Rosie-she was his mate." "Okay, Ronnie? I'm sorry." Veronica tamped down a surge of anger that Victoria was blaming herself for what Bradford was doing. "No worries pumpkin." Veronica said, "There's one more thing, "tell papa that Uncle Patrick knew her. I have to go now." As soon as she closed the connection to Victoria, Veronica turned her full attention back to Bradford. He was still talking about Rosie. A part of her truly sympathized with him but like her father she appreciated directness as opposed to game playing. When Bradford stopped talking Veronica decided to make him an offer that he would be foolish to turn down. "Brad, listen, we both know how this is going to end, either I will kill you or my father will so I'm going to make you an offer that you would be stupid to refuse." Bradford laughed, "You have nothing that I would be interested in unless.... You took Rosie's place by my side in every way." It was Veronica's turn to laugh, "You have got to be kidding! You and me? Never mind the fact that I'm already mated." she replied still laughing. "Here's my offer, you leave here now with Rosie and never come back. You have my word that you won't be hunted." "That is no offer." Bradford shot back. "Let me ask you this." Veronica said, "My family wasn't the only family doing this, so why did you target us?" "Your father was ultimately responsible! He admits that he should have stopped the sanctioned rapes sooner, if he had Rosie would still be alive and I wouldn't be here getting ready to take your life. There is no offer that you can make that will change that." "So it doesn't matter who did it just so someone pays is that it?" Veronica asked. "Your father....." "Yes, I get it." Veronica said cutting him off, "My family is responsible for what happened to Rosie, you're angry about it, and justifiably so but if you want to die so badly why kill me? You won't be around to see my family suffer so what's the point?" "I don't have to see it; just knowing that they are suffering will be enough." Bradford replied. "Ronnie!" Victoria whispered, "Uncle Patrick wants to meet with him." "No." Veronica shot back and closed off communication. ******** "What happened?" Rik asked. "She said no." Victoria replied as she tried to reach Veronica again. Patrick sat on the sofa with Kevyn in his lap. This was his doing, the woman had been one of his victims and he needed and wanted to speak with her mate. "And say what?" he asked himself, "I'm sorry?" This was one thing that the Sinclaire power couldn't fix. Kevyn sensing his discomfort held his hands tight in hers, she didn't say anything, she didn't know what to say other than the normal platitudes, "it'll be alright" was the one that came to mind. She had no idea if it was going to be alright but she did know remorse when she saw it. It occurred to her then that the Sinclaire family as a whole would always pay the price for their past as well as the victims and any surviving family or mates. Guiltily she looked around the room for Louise. Once the introductions were over, she lost track of her when things started happening. She finally spotted her in a corner talking to a tall, handsome man who could only be a relative of the Sinclaire's with the blond hair and height. "I know where she is!" Victoria exclaimed, "I know where she is!" ******** "It is most unfortunate that I have to kill you." Bradford said with true remorse. "Then don't." Veronica countered, "My offer still stands." "As does mine." Bradford countered. "You mean the one about taking Rosie's place?" Veronica asked. "As you say, that's no offer but I do have a request." "What would that be?" Bradford asked. "Unchain me." "Why would I want to do that?" Bradford asked amused. "Because in spite of everything, you're a fair man. Isn't that what this is all about? You lost Rosie and you want to take one us? So here's what I'm thinking, you unchain me and if I manage to escape this whole thing is over. You take Rosie back to her resting place and from there you can do whatever you want with the exception of coming after my family again. So what do you say?" Instead of answering, Bradford slowly began to approach Veronica.

An Invitation xXx Clint's the one who showed him the best routes through the vents; where all the room vent openings were, where the best places to make a nest were. (Strictly so he could check up on the people he cared about or get away from them). So really, it was all Clint's fault. (What else was new?). Clint had become a good friend since Bucky returned to an unscripted pattern of thought; his own ideas, his own thoughts and wants, and Clint had been instrumental in assuring that he remained comfortable. Sometimes Bucky wished Clint could be more than that, but he always put that thought away quickly; he was fairly certain Clint and Darcy (the intern from the labs with the big personality) were secretly seeing each other. He wouldn't deny he was a little disappointed at the prospect of Clint's status. Bucky had always swung both ways, although back in his youth he made sure to keep that to himself. Now however, he didn't have to hide what he wanted, at least not usually. Knowing Clint was potentially in a relationship he was hesitant to let the archer know how he really felt. Mostly because he liked Darcy, she had gone just as much out of her way to make Bucky feel as welcome as Clint had.  Their relationship brought him back to exactly what was Clint's fault. He never should have given Bucky the idea to hide out in the vents when avoiding Natasha and/or Steve. Bucky had just entered the vents on the third residential level when he heard it, Clint's voice. "Darce." Clint sounded strained, as if he were in pain. Concern ran through Bucky and he silently crawled forward until he reached the vent that opened into Darcy apartment. Her bedroom to be exact. He peaked over the edge of the vent and had to bite his lip to keep the gasp that threatened to spill out.  Below him Clint was sitting in a chair from the dining room, devoid of his clothing. Despite the aerial view he could see the scarves keeping his hands down to his sides, bound to the side slats of the chair. He wasn't struggling, his eyes tracking something or someone rather, just out of view. Whatever he was watching was apparently quite appealing, if the state of his erection was anything to go by.  "You didn't think I'd notice did you?" Darcy's voice sounded.  "Darce." Clint groaned as footsteps sounded, moving closer to him. "I can explain." "Explain?" She asked finally stepping into view. Bucky had to force his reaction back once again at the sight of her in lacy red bra and panties. He watched as she circled Clint slowly. "What's there to explain, Clint?"  She stopped in front of him, planting herself in his lap. Clint gasped as she swirled her hips. "You were staring at him Clint. Did you like what you saw?" When he didn't reply she ground her hips down against him. He bit out a moan, gasping at the contact.  "Tell me Clint, did you like what you saw?" She swirled her hips again. "Fuck! Yes ma’am." He gasped. He could hear her chuckle as she leaned into him, planting bites along his neck.  Bucky watched mesmerized as Darcy lifted up off his lap, a hand between them, and slid back down. He forced another groan down as Clint threw his head back in a silent cry of ecstasy. Darcy sat atop him for a moment or two before she began the task of lifting up and sitting back down, Bucky had to admit, watching Clint slowly lose his mind as Darcy drove him crazy was the greatest thing he'd ever seen.  "Fuck baby, I need more."  "Oh do you?" She asked. "Perhaps you should call Bucky, see if he can give you the more that you need."  Wait what?  Bucky tensed his thoughts racing, heart pounding. Clint wanted him too, he'd been watching him. How had he missed it?  Clint's gasp in the form of Darcy name brought his attention back to the couple below him and he froze when he found Darcy looking up at the ceiling. After a moment he realized how ridiculous he was being, there was no way she knew he was up there watching, but then she winked at him and he knew he was screwed. His best option would be to slowly and quietly get out of there, and then of course he would never speak to them again, much less look at them.  The problem was he couldn't take his eyes of them, especially when Darcy started touching herself, licking her lips as if she were trying to tease him. Darcy looked back down at Clint, leaning forward and pulling at the scarves around his wrists until they came loose. Instantly, Clint’s arms were around her, holding her to him as he stood and carried her out of sight. He could still hear then though, their gasps and grunts and moans. When that final moment hit them, a collective exclamation of their ecstasy, Bucky backed out of the vent and disappeared into his room, where he locked the door and didn’t come out for the rest of the night. xXx Even under threat of torture Bucky would never admit that Darcy Lewis, assistant to the scientifically insane, had managed to sneak up on him. He was in the kitchen, assembling a massive lunch for himself, his attention focused on creating the perfect ratio of mayonnaise to Dijon mustard, when she slid up beside him, barely an inch between them. If someone were able to convince him to admit to being taken by surprise he would proudly state that he had in fact kept from showing his surprise. “I never pictured you as a voyeur.” She spoke softly a sly smile on her face. For second he thought about playing dumb, and if she had seemed mad at him he would have. “She says to the sniper.” “Touché.” There was silence and then. “Did you like what you saw?” Bucky cleared his throat, clearly not comfortable with where this conversation could go. He caught Darcy’s smile widening as he remained silent. A feeling of defiance welled up inside of him and he turned to her with a smirk on his face. “Kinda hard not to doll. You two put on such a pretty show.” He watched as she pulled her lip between her teeth. She was baiting him. Well, Bucky thought, two could play that game. He took a step closer, boxing her in against the counter. “Are you dominant one?” “We take turns.” She stepped forward herself, chest to chest. “You are a frequent guest in our fantasies though.” He suppressed the little jolt of arousal that shot through him. “Is that so?” she nodded. “You know Clint’s birthday is coming up.” She continued. “I had heard that somewhere.” She grinned. “I know the perfect gift for him too.” she ran a finger between his pecks. “And what would that be?” he asked her, hoping he knew the answer. “A second pair of hands to hold him down.” Bucky groaned, pressing his body along hers. “We’re going to his farm for the weekend; I think you should meet us there. Really give him a birthday surprise he’ll never forget.” Bucky reached out with his metal hand and pulled Darcy into by her waist. “You baby doll are gonna be the death of me, and maybe Clint too.” She shrugged a cheeky grin on her face. “At least you’ll both die satisfied and smiling.” xXx Clint’s breathing was labored and strained, rasping through the holes in the ball gag strapped to his face. His wrists turned and pulled at the metal cuffs keeping his arms above his head and secured to the slats of the head board. Darcy was sitting in his lap, scratching trails down his chest with her nails and gyrating her hips over his erection. He whined and groaned trying to free himself as she mercilessly teased him. “I think it’s time for your birthday present now, Clint.” She said, sliding down his body and laying a kiss on the tip of his cock. His gasp turned into a groan when she got up instead of going further. “Patience.” She chastised, sauntering over to the bathroom door. She turned back to him. “Now, close your eyes.” she told him. “Good boy.” Clint listened as the bathroom door opened, but he couldn’t hear much else other than the rustling of clothes. He felt the bed dip, the weight heavier than Darcy and then someone was startling his thighs. He groaned as a cool hand trailed up his thigh. “Damn doll face, you sure it’s not my birthday, too.” Darcy chuckled watching as Clint’s eyes snapped open taking in the sight of Bucky in only his underwear, hands moving all around his legs and abdomen. “If you’re both good boys, maybe we can work something out for you too.” She told him, perching herself in the chair beside the bed, legs crossed, back straight looking every bit like the queen Clint thought she was. “But for now it’s Clint’s birthday and he’s been such a good boy this year I think he deserves his present, don’t you Bucky?” “Yes ma’am.” Bucky replied a salacious grin on his face as he slowly leaned down and planted a kiss right where Darcy had just minutes before. He kept their eyes locked together as he darted his tongue out for a quick lap, then another and another until Clint was squirming under his attention. From her chair, Darcy watched enraptured as Bucky finally took Clint into his mouth, swallowing him down. Apparently Bucky didn’t have a gag reflex which served to delight Darcy and drive Clint mad with pleasure. Clint bucked his hips a few times until Bucky pushed him back to the bed holding him down with his increased strength. Darcy bit into her lip, as Clint’s abs rippled and tensed. He was trying to thrust, to arch up into Bucky’s mouth but he wouldn’t let him, keeping him secure to the mattress. Clint whimpered and groaned behind his gag, eyes screwed shut and breathing even more erratic than before. He was trying to speak behind the gag, but they couldn’t make out what he was trying to say. Whatever it was, it was obvious Clint was getting close, so Darcy stood from the chair and with her authoritative voice she ordered Bucky to stop. Bucky pulled up with a pop and was gasping and writhing at being left so close. Darcy chuckled, walking up to the side of the bed and pulling Bucky in for a long dirty kiss. She broke the kiss and pulled Bucky off the bed to stand beside her. She then leaned over Clint and wrapped her fist around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough to pull him back. Clint dug his heels into the bed, begging for more with the arch of his hips. “You didn’t really think I would be that easy did you, Clint?” she asked, releasing him. He whimpered, his eyes begging her to take mercy on him. Beside her, Bucky was mesmerized by Darcy’s dominant streak. Having known Darcy for a little over two years now, he could honestly say, that despite her big personality he had never thought she was capable of something like this. He always figured her usual attitude was just a cover for the insecure little girl hiding under baggy sweaters and thick framed glasses. Now watching her dominate Clint in her purple corset and matching panty, stocking and garter set he couldn’t figure out how he had been so wrong. “Bucky.” Her voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up at her, her eyes tracing his face. “You still with us?” he smirked, nodding. “Yes Ma’am.” She smirked at his reply and took him by the hand, leading him to the foot of the bed where she pushed him to sit down on the blanket chest. She looked over the top of his head to find Clint starring at them desperately. “Don’t take your eyes off us.” She ordered Clint, before lifting one long leg up and placing it, spiked heel and all beside Bucky’s leg, his face in perfect position in front of her crotch. “Now, let’s see what had Clint so excited.” Bucky smirked up at her, leaning forward, and sliding the fabric of her panties aside to run a finger teasingly through her folds. She moaned, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as he teased. Darcy looked up just as he pulled his finger away and replaced it with his tongue. She gasped, her hands fisting his hair and he ate her out enthusiastically. She barely had time to register his fingers sliding into her before they began stroking at her g-spot with a short curing motion. It was only when she looked back at Clint, eyes glazed with lust and cock purpling with his need to release that she could feel her end coming. Mouth open on a scream and head thrown back she came harder than she had in a long time. She could her legs giving out, but instead of hitting the floor, Bucky was there, his strong arms wrapping around her and holding her close as she came down from her high. “We will definitely be doing that again at some point.” She murmured. Bucky chuckled. “Whatever you want Ma’am.” Darcy hummed in glee. “Oh Clint, he’s very obedient and respectful.” She reached up and ran a finger along his jaw. “I think I’ll keep him.” “Lucky me.” he replied nipping at her throat. The indignant and muffled complaint from the bed drew their attention back to Clint, who looked rather put out at having been seemingly forgotten. Darcy chuckled, stepping out of Bucky’s hold and slowly sauntering back to the bed side. “Don’t worry birthday boy, I didn’t forget about you.” She told him, reaching into the draw on the nightstand and pulling out two condoms and a bottle of lube. She tossed the bottle to Bucky with a wicked smile. “Be a dear prep him would you?” Bucky looked hesitant until Clint groaned around the gag, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leaned back into the pillows. “As you can see he’s very excited by the idea of you fucking him.” Bucky smirked, moving back to the bed and setting to work. Darcy watched fascinated as Bucky lube up his fingers and began the careful process of opening Clint up. After a few minutes of teasing, Bucky deemed him prepared and stripped himself of his underwear. Darcy took one of the condoms and opened it up before taking a hold of Bucky and pumping once, twice, three times. Bucky hissed, watching with hooded eyes as she slid the condom on him. Bucky then replaced himself on the bed and spread Clint’s thighs, sliding in slowly passed the tight ring of muscle. Clint whimpered at the feeling, his body pliant and relaxed as Bucky slid in to the root. “Holy shit.” Darcy breathed and Bucky looked to her. “You two sure do make a pretty picture.” She told him chewing on her lip and admiring the way they fit together. Bucky kept eye contact as he pulled out and slid back in slowly, teasing not only Clint but Darcy as well. “You better hurry Doll, I don’t think he’s gonna last very long.” Bucky told her as Clint squirmed jerked around. Darcy wasted no time then, opening the second condom and sliding it onto to Clint’s cock. Then with Bucky’s help she straddled Clint’s hips, facing away from Bucky, and slowly slid down his length all the way to the base. They both took great pleasure in the sounds Clint made. Clint looked down at them when he heard Darcy’s moan of delight, finding Bucky had pulled Darcy’s breasts from her corset and began fondling them as they se their pace. Darcy began by rocking back and forth, grinding into Clint’s pelvis while Bucky started thrusting long and deep, hitting his prostate with every slide into home. Not long after they picked up their pace, this time Darcy bouncing on his lap, sending her breasts tumbling everywhere, and what a sight that was to see. With every thrust and hitch of their hips they were brought closer and closer to completion until they finally spilled over the edge on after the other. Bucky slid free and disposed of both Condoms. When he came back out of the bathroom he stopped in the doorway, watching as Darcy undid each hand cuff and slowly lowered Clint’s arms back to his sides, and then undid the gag and set it on the table to clean later. She then began the slow process of rubbing him down, massaging at his shoulders and chest and petting his hair softly, cooing all the while about what about how well he did and asking him if he was okay and did he need anything? When Clint replied that he was fine, a goofy tired grin on his face, she stood up and stripped from her corset and panties and then lay down beside him. When she noticed Bucky a tint of pink flushed her cheeks and for the first time he saw the young woman he originally thought Darcy to be. Demure beneath the armor of snark and tacky wool. They both reached out for him then and he moved to the bed, lying on Clint’s other side. Clint chuckled as they both snuggled up to him. “Best Birthday ever.”

An Ounce of Perception (against an age of obscure) Part 8: Amon Hen   “I should vote for Minas Tirith,” said the elf. Hearing him, Gimli was grateful that he was not smoking. It would have been a pity to waste his quickly dwindling supply of pipeweed by choking upon it. He was grateful, too, that his axes were absent from his hands. Shame would have burned in his cheeks if he had been careless enough to cut himself in his surprise. He hadn’t done that since he had been a very young dwarrow training under Dwalin. Glancing about their impromptu council, the dwarf saw that Aragorn was almost as surprised as him. They traded glances and Gimli gave a slow nod. He and Legolas had pledged their friendship and loyalty one to the other, but the elf was also loyal to Isildur’s heir and would fight to see Aragorn regain his throne. How it is, Lord, thought Gimli, that I can sound the depths of his loyalty and you cannot? Can a dwarf learn more of elfkind than a man can? Were you not raised in Rivendell? With that thought, the dwarf found his memory turning back to the Last Homely House. There, he and Legolas had sworn alike to represent their people, to go as far as the passes of the mountains, if not beyond. Once, Gimli would have waited for the elf to make his choice and then vowed to match him step for step and league for league, unwilling to leave the quest to a Firstborn. He smiled at the memory of this lost version of himself. That dwarf would have stuck to the elf’s shadow like a cocklebur merely to see tightness come into his jaw, to hear him muttering fiercely about his obstinacy, his homely features, and his rude mannerisms. Now it was not stubbornness that drove him to follow where elven boots walked, soft and unheard upon the earth. Speaking only to himself, Gimli had called it folly, this driving force. He knew, too, that it went by another name, but it was a name that he dared not voice yet. Besieged by such thoughts and by an uncertainty as deep as it was constant – what was a dwarf to do with his love for an elf? – Gimli was half-surprised when the dignified, craggy, and devoted face of Gloin son of Groin rose within his mind. There in his memory his father spoke, saying, “The hardest moments you will face, my dearest boy, will be those in which love and duty clash.” Only twice before had Gimli faced such contests between his heart and his given word: once when Gloin had forbidden him to accompany him on the quest for Erebor (how his heart had cried out to stand at the side of his cousins!) and once in Moria, when his heart had bidden him to kneel at Balin’s tomb when his axe was needed to defend the Fellowship. Here, his duty was clear enough, but, before he could speak the truth of it, his heart rose up into his mouth to choke him, tasting at once of iron and of rose petals. My heart is with the elf, thought Gimli, bewildered at what the rebellious organ dared. How could so much audacity exist within so small a beating thing? Still, the dwarf did not try to lie to himself. My heart is with the elf, he repeated in his thoughts. And so will it be for all the ages of the world. If we must walk separate paths, then my heart will remain in his care. My body will grieve the loss of it, more than like, and little enough worth it may be to an elf, but I have come to care for him and so can do no less. Swallowing down the taste of his heart’s blood, Gimli said that he, too, would choose Minas Tirith if the White City was the choice of Legolas Greenleaf. He knew that the elf would not hear the tribute he was making, but it was proper that he should make it. It is my wish to be ever at your side, but… “But I will not turn my feet thither if the Ringbearer chooses another path,” he said at last. He ached with the knowledge that his words might signal a parting from Legolas, but he permitted no pain to enter his face. A fierce brightness came then into the changeable eyes of the elf – a smile shimmered behind his fair face. “And I too will go with him,” said Legolas. “It would be faithless now to say farewell.” A shock traveled through the dwarf’s mighty frame as he heard words that he has once spoken leave the lips of the elf. He knew that Legolas saw it; his smile deepened and brightened at once. He speaks not of Frodo, thought Gimli, heart beating wild with hope, but for me! Legolas would follow, would stand at his side on even the darkest roads. Hope rekindled in his breast, Gimli looked for a moment on distant days and imagined that the world was won back from darkness and renewed. How could it not be, when one such as he had won the friendship of this bright and smiling creature? And having won friendship, might it not be possible on some distant day to win affection as well? But then Aragorn spoke again and his voice was grim, as if he could see into dark days yet to come. “If you would let me choose, then I should appoint three companions,” said Isildur’s heir. As he continued, Gimli shook his head; it seemed that every member of their company was destined to astonish him on this day. If he were yet the dwarf he had been in Rivendell, he would have heard Aragorn’s words with pleasure as well as with surprise. He, a dwarf, was being chosen over an elf! For all of his surprise, Gimli could yet see wisdom in Aragorn’s choices. It was right that he should be chosen to protect the Ringbearer, for it was his father and his father’s companions who had travelled with Bilbo Baggins, protecting him and protected by him at need. The name of the hobbit who had dared to face down a dragon was still spoken with awe and renown in the halls of Erebor. (Other tales, too, were spoken – that a love had come to exist between the King Under the Mountain and one in whose veins no drop of dwarven blood ran. Though he had lived most of his life with the dwarves of Thorin’s company, it had been hard to learn the truth of such tales; Gimli only knew that any mentioning of that sundered love, if love it had been, made the eyes of what remained of those noble thirteen very sad. Gimli’s mind had turned often to those tales as an elf had slowly come to conquer his heart, comforted by the idea that he was not the first Durin to love outside of his race.) Gimli agreed, too, that the gentle, young hobbits should be returned to their homeland, but he was grateful that he need not voice his opinion. Well he remembered the pain of being excluded from the great quest to reclaim Erebor. Doubtless, he would have fallen in battle. If so skilled a warrior as Thorin Oakenshield was taken, his younger self would have had little chance. Still, he regretted, wishing that he might have been there to defend his kin. Pippin and Merry carried similar wishes in their breasts – to be of use to Frodo on his dark quest or to die to see him safe. Such wishes had Gimli’s every sympathy, but he believed that the two younger hobbits would be best sent with Boromir, who had come to care for them, and then onward to the green hills that knew the tread of their feet. Turning his thoughts from the gentle Shire folk, Gimli saw that Legolas’s face had gone pale and that his eyes were flashing like a blade at-forge. Aragorn noticed as well and amended his speech, adding, that the elf might be included in the ideal company “if Legolas is not willing to leave us.” The hobbits protested then at being left out and the rest urged that Frodo should be recalled. At that moment Boromir reappeared and his words sent panic racing through the company. The hobbits dashed off, seeking Frodo, even as Aragorn sought to keep order among them. As their fellowship fractured, Gimli saw the elf steady the quiver on his back and count the arrows there by feel. Elven eyes locked with his, questioning, insistent. “I will go with you,” said the dwarf. His “always,” was unspoken but quite perfectly understood. They ran off into danger side by side.

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin noticed Obi-Wan thanking their guide, but most of Anakin’s attention was focused on the room itself. It was a long room with one window running across the length of the far wall, revealing a glimpse of the city just outside. The walls were white and the furniture unremarkable – an uncomfortable-looking pale grey couch took up the near right side of the room, a bleached mahkowood table sitting in front of it. Two small beds lay beyond the couch, placed crosswise against the wall, a small metallic nightstand separating them. The blankets were light beige and the beds themselves looked firm, with no give. The other wall was adorned only with a plain set of drawers inset into the wall. All in all, very utilitarian. Not what Anakin himself would have given out to guests, but it matched the rest of the building. They certainly didn’t seem to prize comfort or color in this new Republic. And Anakin was beginning to wonder if he’d ever see anything that made this future seem at all desirable. Everything so far just made him think that everyone would be better off if he and Obi-Wan could manage to fix things. They just needed to figure out how to do that. Anakin moved into the room, walking over to the windows and glancing outside. The lights of the city were bright, the traffic heavy and distracting. Anakin reached out and twisted the shade on the window down, blocking out the light. He heard the soft click of the room door shutting, and the room flooded with light as Obi-Wan activated the overhead. Anakin closed his eyes against the brightness, reaching out with his senses. There were two security recorders covering the room. With a light touch of the Force, Anakin switched them off, while tying a knot into the alarm system to keep it from triggering. They’d notice his interference, probably sooner rather than later, but if the Republic wanted to watch, they could have the decency to ask first. As an afterthought, Anakin tied a mental alarm of his own into the door of the room, locking it and keying it to react if anyone tried to open the door. Then Anakin turned around, opening his eyes as he smiled at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was already watching Anakin, a considering look on his face. Anakin felt a tiny pang of guilt when he noticed just how tired Obi-Wan looked, but he pushed it away. Obi-Wan could rest all he wanted after they’d had a chance to talk. “I just want to clarify something,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan tilted his chin up, the line between his eyes deepening, radiating concern and calm, though Anakin could almost feel the edges of another emotion underneath those. “About what happened back on that ship.” “Oh, do you mean the ill-advised attempt to distract me from thinking about your relationship with Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin’s left hand tightened into a fist involuntarily, but he refused to let Obi-Wan’s words get under his skin. “That wasn’t what it was,” Anakin said. He pulled off his cloak and tossed it on the nearest bed. The warm glow of his victory over Luke was fading, rapidly being replaced by an uncontrollable frustration at Obi-Wan, who seemed to be missing the point on purpose. “What I have with Padmé has nothing to do with the Order, and nothing to do with you.” “Then why are we talking about it at all?” Obi-Wan asked, wrapping his arms around his chest, left over right. Anakin pressed his lips together for a moment, turning and dropping down onto the bed, and then carefully and slowly started unbuckling the straps around the top of his left boot. “Because we have to,” Anakin said, not letting himself look at Obi-Wan. “Or maybe… maybe because I want to.” “Why?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice holding the slightest edge of strain. “We never needed to talk about it before.” “Maybe we did,” Anakin said, undoing the last buckle and then slipping both the boot and sock underneath off, tossing them in the corner by the bed and starting on the right one. “Maybe we’ve always needed to, but neither of us wanted to because…what I have with Padmé, it changes things.” “It doesn’t need to,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, still standing near the door, watching Anakin with that exhausted look in his eyes. “Anakin, I don’t-that is, I’m not planning on telling the Council.” Anakin dropped his eyes back to his boot, carefully unfastening the buckles. The floor was cold and hard, unyielding under his left foot. Obi-Wan sighed softly, coming farther into the room. “So, you see, it doesn’t have to change anything,” Obi-Wan said, sitting on edge of the other bed. “We can accept it and continue on, just the same as before.” Anakin tugged off his right boot and sock, and tossed them over to join the others. He pushed further back on the bed, pulling his legs up. The narrow bed was softer than it had looked, the blanket plush under his bare feet. He picked his cloak up off of the bed and tossed it into the corner near his boots. “I think that would be for the best,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan’s calm was slipping, just a little, and there was a hint of frustration pulsing into the Force. “Don’t you agree?” “No,” Anakin said, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt and leaning back to place it onto the nightstand. He stayed there, leaning back onto the bed, propping himself up by his elbows. From this vantage point, he could see the back of Obi-Wan’s head, the curve of his ear, and the very edge of his face. “I don’t.” “Why not?” Obi-Wan said, his shoulders slouching forward the slightest bit. “Because I don’t want things to stay the same,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan’s back tensed slightly and Anakin felt the sudden, intense urge to run his hand over Obi-Wan’s skin, to massage the tension out until Obi-Wan relaxed under his touch. “I want more.” “What exactly do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, but Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s uncertainty. There was no real confusion there, merely indecision. “I want you to look at me,” Anakin said, reaching down and releasing the catch on his belt, slipping off the belt and the sash underneath, his tabard and tunics sliding out of place “No, I want you to see me.” “I’m not sure I understand the distinction,” Obi-Wan said, carefully. Anakin dropped the belt and sash off the side of the bed, watching as Obi-Wan winced at the soft sound they made as they hit the floor. “Don’t you?” Anakin asked, pushing his fear down to a cold, dark part of his mind. Finally, Obi-Wan glanced over at him, a sidelong look that spoke of banked heat. Obi-Wan was still trying to be calm, Anakin could feel that, but underneath, desire was starting to burn. Obi-Wan had already shown that he would allow Anakin’s touch, allow Anakin to steal a kiss. If he just managed to convince Obi-Wan that this was nothing like a distraction, nothing like a poison, but instead the next natural step in their relationship, then Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to back away again. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his gaze seemingly trapped by the bared skin that was showing between the pieces of Anakin’s tunic. Anakin shifted back, leaning the back of his head against the wall, resting his shoulders on the pillow, letting the fabric fall further apart, reveling in the surge of longing that flooded into Obi-Wan. As he’d learnt in his relationship with Padmé, that feeling was a fire that only one thing could truly quench. Anakin licked his lips, then let out a breathy little sigh, carefully peeking out from under his eyelashes to see Obi-Wan’s reaction. Obi-Wan’s lips were pressed together, a thin line that spoke of impatience, but he hadn't turned away. “Anakin, didn’t you want to talk?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice lower and rougher than usual. He seemed to realize it, and cleared his throat, as though Anakin would believe that that had been the problem. “You aren’t talking.” “Ah, I was just… getting comfortable,” Anakin said, lingering over each word. He slid his left hand onto his stomach, shivering even at his own touch, pushing the fabric out of the way, completely baring his chest and stomach. “Where were we?” “You-you were ignoring me, like you normally do,” Obi-Wan said, voice tight with frustration. Anakin grinned lazily, lightly skimming his hand across his own skin. “Oh, no, Master, I’ve been listening to every word,” Anakin said, slipping just the tip of a finger under the top of his pants. Anakin’s hips bucked slightly, and Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered between Anakin’s face and his hand. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat for a moment at the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes. Anakin bit down on his lower lip so he could keep quiet, and let the moment play out. Something in the room was shifting, and Anakin relaxed slightly, his hand falling back down to the bed as he allowed himself to touch the Force as fully as possible – it was easier here, somehow. He’d been noticing that for a while, but it never felt as clear as it did right now. Something was about to happen. “This is not who we are,” Obi-Wan said softly, pleadingly. Obi-Wan shifted further onto his bed, turning to more fully face Anakin, his expression troubled and sincere. “It’s who I am,” Anakin said, and he felt the truth of his own words. “I’m not the Jedi I should be, we both know that.” “No, Anakin. That’s not true,” Obi-Wan said, his brow furrowed earnestly. “You’re an exceptional Jedi. I am honored to know you.” “No, I’m not. I’m not a Jedi at all,” Anakin said, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I did try, Obi-Wan. I tried so hard.” “Maybe that’s the problem,” Obi-Wan said, slipping down to kneel in the small space between the beds, reaching out to take Anakin’s hand into his own. “You have to be willing to just exist, Anakin, to allow yourself to be caught up in the Force.” “I can’t.” Anakin shook his head softly, his fingers curving around Obi-Wan’s hand. “Why not?” Obi-Wan asked. “Because it burns,” Anakin whispered, doing his best to control the sharp flickers already racing through him. “And if I let it loose, it will consume me.” “Let it,” Obi-Wan said, his hand tightening on Anakin’s. “Anakin, you can’t go on like this. You are a Jedi, a very great one. This power was born inside you. However strong it is, you were made to hold it.” Anakin let his eyelids slide closed, shivering as he let the leash on his control slip just a little. He felt warm, far too warm, and Obi-Wan’s hand on his was the only cool thing in the universe. Still, he kept his eyes closed, the Force rushing up against him. This was what Obi-Wan required of him, and... it was what the Force was asking, as well. And now he could see his mother’s eyes, dark and empty, the scar on her cheek a silent scream of betrayal. He hadn’t been able to save her. Anakin let out a shuddering breath, not letting himself pull back on the leash, allowing the image to remain. All he could see was his mother’s dead gaze, all he could smell was the filth of the Tusken camp, all he could hear were the death cries of the raiders as he slaughtered them, and his mouth tasted of tears and blood. But he could feel Obi-Wan’s hand on his, anchoring him. Slowly, the aching pain of his mother’s death seemed to be overshadowed by something different, something that he couldn’t place. Her words to him rang out in his mind. Now, I am complete. “I don’t understand,” Anakin said, his eyes opening again, meeting Obi-Wan’s calm gaze. “What don’t you understand?” Obi-Wan asked. With a sickening wrench, Anakin remembered that Obi-Wan didn’t know about the Tuskens. Didn’t know that Anakin was a monster already. “Anakin, talk to me.” “I can’t,” Anakin said, sitting up and crossing his legs underneath himself, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan moved up to sit on the bed, placing his hand on Anakin’s knee. “Don’t make me.” “Anakin, I’m not forcing you into anything,” Obi-Wan said. “I only want to help.” “Because I’m important to the Order?” Anakin asked challengingly. Obi-Wan glanced away, his expression conflicted. “Because you’re important to me,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “You’re my friend.” “Is that what I am?” Anakin asked, reaching his hand out to cover Obi-Wan’s where it lay on Anakin’s leg. “Is that the right word for what we are?” Obi-Wan glanced back at him, thoughtfully and… there, Anakin finally felt the shift that he’d been waiting for. Obi-Wan had made a decision, something important. “No, I don’t suppose that it is,” Obi-Wan said. His gaze dropped to Anakin’s lips, then flicked back up to meet Anakin’s eyes. Obi-Wan moved forward, slow and sure. Anakin closed his eyes, parting his lips slightly. And Obi-Wan was kissing him, soft and certain, his tenderness pressing against Anakin in delicate, light waves. Anakin relaxed into the kiss, the unfamiliar calm of true meditation washing over him. The Force still surged around him, but its fire had been banked, briefly transmuted into something gentler. For this single moment in time, Anakin was at peace.

Three days passed since she saw Tywin and Sansa still had her period. She squirmed in her seat and cursed her cycle. She was flowing heavier than usual and it was draining her. She spent a lot of her time in bed when she should have been studying. Classes would start again soon and all she had managed to do was take some meager notes. She sighed heavily and tried to focus on her textbook. She was in the library, hoping that the change in scenery would help her resist the pull of her bed, but she couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept drifting to what happened with Tywin. Harry didn’t touch her like that. Their tryst had been quick and not nearly as pleasurable as she knew it could be. But her brief moment with Tywin had been infinitely better. His touch had illicit such wanton reactions from her that her cheeks flamed whenever she thought of it. The fact that she wanted his cock in her at such inopportune times of the day was starting to drive her a little crazy. She was horny and it was proving to be incredibly inconvenient.  She sighed and closed her textbook. She wasn’t going to get anything done and she might as well go home. She was attending a charity event the next evening that her family had been invited to, and she still needed to get her outfit picked out. Not to mention the slight bout of anxiety she felt wondering if Tywin would be in attendance. She didn’t want to ask him and seem like she was eager for his company. He hadn’t messaged her other than to send her a copy of the NDA she signed. They were just going to have sex, he hadn’t said anything about a relationship… “Hey.” Sansa looked up and forced a smile. “Hi, Harry,” she replied. She desperately wished she left earlier. She had avoided Harry ever since their last encounter. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said sitting down. She tried not to frown at the way he invited himself into her space and instead focused on packing her textbook into her bag. “I’ve been busy. I was just on my way out actually,” she said. He was smiling at her in a way she didn’t like. “Well, why don’t we go out for a drink. It’s break! You should be having fun not spending your time in the library,” he said. Sansa wanted to retort that he was in the library but instead she smiled at him and shook her head. “No, I’m fine, thank you. I have plans tomorrow and would rather get some sleep.” She stood and picked up her bag hoping he would take the hint but he stood with her. “Why don’t I walk you home?” He asked. That was the last thing she wanted. He didn’t know where she lived and their encounter had taken place in his dorm.  “I was going to meet Jeyne for dinner and head home after,” she said hoping he would believe her. Jeyne had gone back North for the break. He put his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’ll just walk you out then,” he said walking around her and gesturing towards the exit. She followed him reluctantly. There was something about Harry after they had sex that made her feel nervous. She made it as clear as possible that it was a one-time thing before they did it but he still looked at her like she belonged to him and it unnerved her. It wasn’t like he was pining over her. Harry had a reputation even before they had sex. And that reputation hadn’t diminished after their little tryst.  “It was nice seeing you again, Harry,” she said as they walked outside. He grinned at her and they just stood there awkwardly. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you too,” he said looking oddly like an overeager schoolboy. Sansa wondered at her decision to bed him. He was handsome, sure, but nothing about him appealed to her. She found herself comparing him to the Lannister patriarch frequently and she couldn’t imagine letting Harry touch her again not when she knew how good it could be with someone older like Tywin.  She walked in the opposite direction of her apartment towards the restaurant that she frequented with Jeyne and figured she mind as well as order takeout.  . . . Getting ready for the charity event was more of a chore than usual. Sansa’s period was finally going away but she still felt exhausted and pinning her hair into an intricate bun was more work than it was worth. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and let out a sigh. It wasn’t her best work but it would do. She was dreading the function if only because she knew that Margaery would be in attendance. For once, Sansa was glad Arya would be going. She never got along with her younger sister but lately, things were more amicable and Arya had never liked Margaery.  She grabbed a sparkly black clutch and hurried out of her apartment. Her parent’s car was waiting downstairs. She loved her parents but they still insisted they attend these things as a family and sitting in her family’s Towncar often meant being squashed against the window while Arya fidgeted with whatever outfit her mother had managed to wrangle her into.  She opened the door to the sleek black car and jammed herself into the seat. Her parents were in conversation and stopped briefly to welcome her warmly before they went back to it. Sansa wondered what was so important but didn’t have time to dwell on it before Arya was picking at the pins in her hair. “Arya!” she exclaimed when a single curl slipped from the careful place she had pinned it. Arya snickered and that’s when Sansa noticed that she wasn’t wearing a dress but a rather nice pantsuit that suited her better. She looked at her sister appreciatively and couldn’t be too mad at her not when she looked so pretty. “Arya, you look so pretty!” Her sister scrunched up her nose at the compliment but at least she stopped picking at Sansa’s hair. Bran was away at a private school north of the Wall and usually opted not to attend these events. He could get away with it because of the distance. Rickon was still too young for most parties and it was a hassle to get him into a suit anyways. Sansa knew her mother was more lenient with her younger brothers. Her older brothers still had to attend but Robb and Jon had their own cars. When Sansa became of age she had a choice, her parents could get her a car or pay for an apartment. Sansa had chosen the apartment and it was times like these that she regretted it but she was used to public transportation and walking. She decided it wasn’t too bad and besides Arya was starting to act her age and that meant she was only slightly more tolerable. She chewed on her bottom lip as they approached the venue. She didn’t know what to expect and she silently wished Jeyne was still around. Sansa didn’t have many friends. She’d had plenty when she was still friends with Margaery but after everything that happened most of them chose Margaery over her. It still stung to think about it.  They piled out of the car and Sansa did her best to smile and shake hands with those her mother introduced her to but after twenty minutes she was eager for a drink. She grabbed a flute of champagne and was making her way over to Robb and his girlfriend when she spotted Margaery and Joffrey. She turned abruptly in the opposite direction and nearly ran into a solid body. She just managed not to spill her drink but then she was staring at a rather intimidating Tywin Lannister.  “Miss Stark,” he said sounding way too formal. Sansa felt heat blossoming across her cheeks and she took a small step back to steady herself. She smiled at him and tried not to let her mind wander to how this man had put his hand down her jeans. “Mr. Lannister,” she replied. Her voice came out way too breathy and she suppressed a cringe as she heard it. He had his signature indifferent look but Sansa thought she detected a hint of amusement in his stare. She took a sip of her champagne. “It’s nice to see you again,” she said before she could think twice of it. She blushed even more and had to force herself to keep his stare and not look down at her shoes.  “You as well,” he said, his voice just a tad lower so that only she could hear. She couldn’t fight the smile that bloomed on her face but she quickly frowned. “Grandfather!” She knew that voice. Joffrey walked up to them with Margaery on his arm and Sansa wanted nothing more than to disappear. He was grinning at her maliciously and for a moment she wondered how she ever found him handsome. Tywin was looking at his grandson with something akin to distaste and she briefly wondered at it. Did he know his grandson was an asshole? She couldn’t imagine Tywin Lannister missing anything and supposed maybe he did. “Sorry if Sansa was bothering you, Grandfather, I’m sure she was just looking for the little kid’s room,” Sansa thought it was a rather poor insult. She had heard Joffrey say worse and wondered if he was holding back because of Tywin. Comparing her to a child wasn’t particularly creative but at least he hadn’t called her a virgin bitch not that it would be exactly accurate. Margaery had the decency to frown but Sansa didn’t care for any of it and apparently neither did Tywin. “Miss Stark and I were talking about her internship, with Baratheon Industries, the same internship you failed to qualify for,” Tywin gritted out. Sansa tried to hide her shock but wasn’t sure she managed. Tywin knew about her internship? But her thoughts were quickly dashed by the look of outrage on Joffrey’s face. She couldn’t remember ever seeing his face so purple and decided that she quite enjoyed the look. He looked to be struggling between anger and embarrassment. Even Margaery had gone slightly pink and Sansa didn’t fail to notice the way she looked meek and not at all like the outspoken woman she knew. “Stannis Baratheon speaks highly of Miss Stark, you’d do well to follow her example.” Sansa didn’t know if Joffrey was just dumb or arrogant but even she wouldn’t glare at Tywin the way he was. The two Lannister men glared at each other until Margaery pulled on Joffrey’s arm. “Joffrey, my grandmother’s arrived, why don’t we go say hello.” Joffrey allowed himself to be pulled away but his dark look persisted. Sansa looked at Tywin and noticed the way his jaw was clenched and the look of absolute disdain on his face. “You dated Joffrey,” he stated. Sansa blinked. Was he asking her? “Yes,” she replied suddenly wishing she had something a bit stronger. He looked at her intensely and for a moment Sansa thought he was upset with her. “Miss Stark.” Sansa didn’t have a chance to say anything more before he left her. She watched his figure disappear into the crowd feeling off-balance. She finished her champagne and made her way to Robb. He asked her if something was wrong and she had the presence of mind to shake her head and smile but she didn’t feel fine. She felt raw. Tywin Lannister had a way of making her emotions bend and stretch that left her overwhelmed. Did he find the thought of being with her suddenly distasteful because of Joffrey?  She was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize her name was being called. She shook herself out of her thoughts and looked up only to come face to face with Harry Hardyng. She suppressed a frown and noticed that he was standing with her aunt Lysa and Professor Baelish. He was holding out his hand for her to shake and she took it absentmindedly. She followed the flow of conversation only barely. Apparently, Harry was close to Professor Baelish and her aunt claimed that she and Baelish were ‘old friends’. She mentally grimaced at the information. Professor Baelish set her skin on fire and not in a good way. He made her feel like she had hives and the small intimate moment she’d had with him had been almost unbearable. It took her only moments to recognize that she wasn’t comfortable with his attention when previously she had been slightly attracted to it. And the thought that he and Harry were close made her feel sick to her stomach. She quickly excused herself and made her way outside. She needed air. The party suddenly felt like too much. She wanted to go home. She was uncomfortable and her scalp felt slightly sore from her tight bun, she had been too rough with her hair. She felt a headache coming and she pressed a palm to her forehead to try and will it away. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” she whirled around at the voice and tried not to gasp in surprise. It was Tywin. He had followed her into the gardens. Sansa had wanted to get away from the crowds, lights, and noise. “I used to enjoy these kinds of events but lately they haven’t been as exciting,” she confessed turning back around to lean on a nearby fountain. She cursed her period, once again, she felt tired.  “A pity,” he said moving to stand next to her. She couldn’t contain the snort that escaped her. He had a way with words. He eyed her at the noise and she smiled at him. She hoped he wouldn’t hold it against her but no matter how derisive he sounded she couldn’t help but find it slightly amusing. What had he said when she told him she had her period? That it was unfortunate? And now, when revealing something slightly personal he had succinctly replied with ‘pity’. She didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or laugh. Though she could admit she had maybe developed a small affinity for dark humor, she blamed Arya.  “Do...do you still want to…” she didn’t know how to finish her question. It had been bothering her ever since the encounter with Joffrey. Did he still want her?  “Are you still…” “Yes, I am.” She didn’t let him finish his question. She blushed at the mention of her period. She looked around them and reaffirmed that they were alone. He nodded at her answer and met her eyes. She had no doubt when she looked at him. He was looking at her the same way he had when her bra had been tucked under her breasts. She instinctively leaned towards him and she watched as his eyes drifted to her lips. She didn’t have a chance to think about it before he was kissing her. The kiss was hungry and she met him with the same intensity. Her core pulsed with need at the contact. He seemed intent on devouring her and she wasn’t sure she had the will to stop him. His hands were on her hips and she would have been scandalized that they were in public if she hadn’t been so needy. He nipped at her bottom lip and she would have let him have her then and there. This is what she had been missing and wanting. He wasn’t like Harry or Professor Baelish and he was nothing like Joffrey. He knew what she wanted before she did and his touch felt right. She moaned against his lips and he pulled away from her. He brought his hand up to push his thumb against her bottom lip. And she opened her mouth on instinct. He breathed deeply for a moment before pulling away from her. She followed him and then forced herself to pull away. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. She blinked several times. “I trust that answers your question,” he said straightening his already perfectly straight jacket. She smiled to herself then she furrowed her brow as she thought of something he had said earlier. “Did Mr. Baratheon really talk about me?” She couldn’t help but ask. It had bothered her when he said it. Stannis Baratheon never paid her any attention. She thought maybe he had said it just to get on Joffrey’s nerves but she found herself asking anyways. He looked at her with such heat that she found herself wanting to look away. “Yes, he did.” She felt her heart skip a bit at the revelation but before she could revel in it he was kissing her again. She moaned at the sensation and the way he wound his arms around her. She wanted him to never let go but he did. He left with such a sudden movement that she was momentarily disoriented. She watched his retreating back and desperately longed for menstrual-free days.  . . .

In a hole in the ground there lived a lonely hobbit. No guests ever stepped through Bilbo Baggins’ green round door and into his smial. He had no friends, and although he had family, they never seeked his company. To the hobbits of the Shire, Bilbo Baggins had been a stranger amongst them ever since he was born. The baby had been unusually quiet, with eyes that seemed too smart, not mirthful enough. As he grew up he turned out to be more of a Took than a Baggins, to the great disappointment of most of the community, who blamed it on the mother. Belladonna Took had been the most adventurous hobbit of her generation, after all, and was therefore not a respectable hobbit. Her fauntling would run in the forest on his own, imagining adventures and elves, fighting off imaginary dragons and monsters. He would come home, covered in dirt and leaves, smiling apologetically at his mother, who always returned the smile softly. “You are going to accomplish great things, my little Bilbo.” She always praised. Every night she would tell him of her adventures, relating her travels, the people she met along the way, her time in Rivendell, the great city of Elves, and her friendship with Lord Elrond, its ruler. She would also tell him of the dwarves and their awful table manners, although they did make the most beautiful jewelry, and Bilbo would listen, his young emerald eyes wide with wonder. One of those nights, though, Bilbo’s eyes had been filled with sadness and hurt instead. His mother noticed and she took him on her lap. “What’s wrong honey ?” She asked, her voice quiet and soothing. Bilbo sniffled, prompting Belladonna to run her free hand through his soft curls. “Am I… Am I different ?” Belladonna inhaled deeply. She knew the question would come, one day or another. Her Bilbo was indeed not the most usual fauntling, but how could she convey to him that it was more than alright, when everyone else, even his father, thought the opposite ? “Yes, Bilbo, you are different.” The child sniffled again, lips trembling and fists closing as he resisted the urge to cry. “B-b-but I don’t wanna be different ! No one wants to play with me anymore, they say I’m odd, they say I… I…” He sobbed as tears finally escaped his eyes. The hand combing his hair descended to rub circles on his back. “Oh, honey. You are not odd. You are special. And being special is good, so very good. I am so proud of you for being different, my little Bilbo.” Her comforting words only made the fauntling cry even more. “B-but Ma, they say I-I’m not even a r-r-r-real hobbit !” Bilbo wailed, curling in on himself. Belladonna Took closed her eyes in sorrow. She knew those insults all too well, for she had suffered from them before her beloved little hobbitling. “Oh, Bilbo…” She fell silent as knew not what to say. Even she did not feel like a real hobbit. She did not fit into the definition the Shire had written. She rubbed her child’s back and combed his curls as he wet her dress with tears and snot. The poor fauntling was still young enough so that his father tolerated him being told of adventures and tales of the sort, but he would soon be a tween and Bungo Baggins would no longer let him fantasize of escaping from the Shire, and start trying to make him into a proper hobbit. After long minutes of sobbing and shaking, Bilbo quieted down. He lifted his head and started absently braiding a lock of Belladonna’s hair. “Ma ? Can we go on an adventure together ?” The child’s voice was raw from crying, but the tone was hopeful. “Well of course honey, I already told you that, just not right now, you’re too young, you know that.” Belladonna smiled as Bilbo’s optimistic face turned into a pout, and poked his nose, making a smile blossom on his face. “But one day, one day we will go explore Middle Earth together, I promise. And you will meet people who will love you for who you are, and not who they want you to be.” A shadow settled on Bilbo’s face at the last sentence. “Does.. Does Da love me for who he wants me to be ?” Belladonna resisted the urge to avert her eyes. “No of course not, honey ! Your Da loves you as much as I love you, and let me tell you, I love you a lot ! Twice as much as all the gold in Erebor !” “What’s Erebor, Ma ?” “It’s… It’s a very beautiful place. A dwarven kingdom carved into a lonely, majestic mountain. It is so full of gold that 10 lifetimes would not be enough to count it all !” Stars started shining in her fauntling’s eyes, just as she realized her mistake. “Can we go there when I’m older ?” “...No, we can’t, honey, I’m sorry.” “Why ?” “This is a story you are not yet ready to hear, my little Bilbo. It is too sad for your bright little heart.” Belladonna said as she poked her youngling on the nose again. Bilbo chuckled, pushing her hand away. “Tomorrow then ? I’ll be older !” It made her laugh and she poked him on the nose once more. “No little Bilbo, this is a story for when you will be over 33. Now what about I tell you about the night your father proposed to me ? It was, as hobbit customs want it, a perfect half moon, to represent soulmates...” She never got to tell the tale of the fall of Erebor. Five years later, during the winter of Bilbo’s 20th birthday, his mother passed away. It was not a glorious death like she had often claimed she would get, her Took blood taking pride in the thought of dying while she was still wild and young. No, it was a slow, boring death, an usual one for a hobbit. She had fell sick alongside half of the Shire. Bilbo had been sick as well, in fact he has fell sick two days before his mother, and his father had been left to take care of Belladonna alone. The fauntling was carried to his parents’ bed and put next to his mother. There, through his feverish state, he thought he heard his father talk to someone. “Why did he …. fall sick too ? Fauntlings his age …..pposed to be strong and healthy. Oh, why did he have to be this way ?” Was Father talking about him ? He sounded disappointed. Days passed, foggy and boring. Belladonna was constantly sleeping, and when she was not, it was only a half conscious state in which she talked to people who were not there, people that Bilbo had only heard of in her tales, sometimes calling out to Lord Elrond. “Ah Elrond, have you…. My son… Bilbo. He is the most...precious hobbit of them all, you… him… adventurous…Invite us sometime..Tauriel…” It did not make much sense, but it warmed Bilbo’s heart, to know that his mother would talk to her elves friends about him like that. During those episodes, he would grab her hand with his trembling one and caress it weakly. When she will be better, he thought, when she will be better, I will ask her again about visiting Rivendell. Maybe I’m old enough now. Father would come in to feed them and caress his mother’s cheek. Sometimes he would also comb her hair and whisper loving things to her. In the beginning, Bilbo watched with big, too bright eyes, waiting for his turn. But Father would only touch his forehead briefly, sighing at the fever that was not receding. “You should be better by now.” He muttered, once. Bilbo had expected to see concern in his father cloudy grey eyes, but they were too dark. Their seemed to be a special kind of bitterness in them, mixed with anger. Resentment. It was the night after that that Bilbo got woken up in the middle of the night by a cold, sweaty hand gripping his. “My little Bilbo… Honey, wake up. Open your eyes for your Ma.” A weak, wet cough. The disgusting smell of sickness, and something else, another scent that had been growing stronger and stronger in the past couple of days. A scent that Bilbo feared, although he did not yet have a name for it. He opened his eyes in the dark room, only lightened by moonlight that was filtering through the window in the ceiling. His mother was awake, and looking at him. “Ma ?” He questioned, still sleepy. Was she getting better ? Maybe she wanted him to fetch her a glass of water. “Good boy..” She reached with her free hand to arrange some of his curls away from his sweaty face. She was trembling. “I love you, Bilbo” Tears filled her eyes and her next sentence came out as a weak sob. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to…” She coughed, and it snapped Bilbo out of the last shreds of sleep clinging to him. His heart missed a beat as he noticed the coldness of her hand. She was not supposed to feel cold, she was not supposed to have this sad look in her eyes, she.. She looked so old, all of a sudden. The weird scent was overwhelming, filling his lungs as he took in a sharp breath. Something was wrong, so very wrong. “Ma ?” He asked, tears and panic in his voice. “Sshhh baby boy… It will be alright…” Another cough. The smell, bilbo could not bear the smell, it made him want to wail. “Do not forget little Bilbo… Middle Earth is.. Full of beauties waiting for you to discover them..” “Yes, Ma, and we’ll discover them together, when I’m older, we’ll…” The words died in the child’s throat when he saw his mother close her eyes in what looked like grief. “Ma ? We’ll explore Middle Earth together, right ?” Silence. “Right, Ma ?” She opened her eyes, slowly. She was growing weaker every second. She did not have long, and she had too many words, too much love, she could not communicate it all. “Bilbo, I… I love you, no matter who you are, no matter what you will become, I love you, I love you I love you I love you…” She repeated again and again, her voice falling to a weak whisper as Bilbo begged her to stay awake, to just stay a little longer, to not break her promise. “I’m sorry.” She said, or maybe she just thought it, she was too exhausted to know. Black filled her vision slowly, creeping on her young Bilbo’s tear streaked face until all she could see was two panicked emerald eyes, and then, nothing at all. “Ma ?” “Ma ?!” “MAAAA !!!” Heart wrenching sobs. Wails, then the echo of running steps, and the sound of the door flying open. Screams, someone demanding to know what is going on. But Bilbo did not care. He clung to the lifeless body of his mother, crying, demanding for her to wake up. Screaming at her that it was unfair, that she promised, she promised they would go on adventures together. Two hands grabbed his shoulders and hurled him backwards and into the wall. “ENOUGH WITH THIS ADVENTURE NONSENSE ! LET ME SEE YOUR MOTHER !” Shocked silence, and then a sob, not from the fauntling this time. --- Bungo Baggins and his son were not the closests father and son of the Shire. In fact, they were pretty much the opposite. When Bilbo was born, Bungo soon found that he was not patient enough to take care of a baby. Belladonna had smiled, had told him that it was alright, not every hobbit was cut out for this, and she had simply worked twice as hard to keep the fauntling fed and warm and happy and clean and everything else a fauntling should be. “Don’t you worry, when he’ll grow up you’ll get attached !” Would say his friends and family, but they did not sound convinced, and they themselves did not want anything to do with Bilbo. They did not even like to spend time with Bungo anymore, he could read it on their face, as clear as day. And so reassured, Bungo waited for the little form he so rarely held to grow into a talking and walking little hobbitling. “Da !” “Yes, that’s me little one.” “Da, may I have a hug ?” “No, I’m busy reading, later.” The fauntling sniffled. “Ma always puts her book away to hug me.” Bungo sighed and put his book aside, before opening his arms. His son crawled on his lap and rested his head against his chest, eyes turned towards the fireplace. It was rare, these moments they shared. Bungo found that he did not really want more. “Will you tell me a story ?” “Hum, sure..” Bungo grabbed the book he had put aside, and started reading out loud. After a while, Bilbo yawned, making Bungo stop. “What ? Is the story not to your liking, son ?” The boy blushed. “It’s.. It’s just… It’s not an adventure…” Bungo huffed. “Well if you want to be told about adventures you should go back to your mother.” He said coldly. He felt the small thing freeze in his arms. “S-sorry father. I’ll listen to your story now.” “Well I don’t wanna tell you the story anymore. Go to your mother. Or your room, I don’t really care. I need to be alone.” The fauntling said nothing more, prefering to hop off his lap and get out of the room quickly. Belladonna had been very mad at him about his behavior, that day. Which is how he found himself in his son’s room once the sun had set, telling the little one a story about a wizard and an elf king doing whatever shameful adventurous things wizards and elves do. It was not because he was reading the words that he had to actually read the words. To his relief, Bilbo never asked him to tell him a story again.   “He is still a child, let him dream of adventures !” Had protested Belladonna one day when he had suggested that maybe the other fauntlings did not like their son because of his disgusting penchant for adventures. “Besides, if you find adventures disgusting, please do enlighten me on the reason why you chose me, the most adventurous hobbit of the Shire !” He had chosen her at a time when he himself found adventures entertaining to hear and read about. And look where that got his reputation. It had already been bad that he married a Took, but now, his child was growing up to be more of a Took than a Baggins, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I chose you when I was young and stupid !” He spat, not staying in the room long enough to witness his wife’s heart break. The atmosphere grew tense in Bag End after that.   Five years passed. For Belladonna, it was five years of forced smiles and hidden tears For Bungo, it was five years of continual disappointment, while he pretended that he did not notice the way his wife’s eyes had dimmed. And then Belladonna fell sick, and all his love for her came back with the fear of losing her. Bilbo was sick as well, and so he installed the fauntling next to his mother. Maybe if Belladonna kept close to her boy, she would remember that she has to live, she has to. Loud sobs woke him in the middle of the night. Bilbo was crying like Bungo had never heard him cry before. Cold dread gripped his guts as he ran to the main bedroom. Bilbo was clinging to Belladonna like his life depended on it, his small body shaking with sobs. “BILBO ! Get off your mother !” No response. “What is going on !” He demanded, but he already knew, deep down. He simply refused to believe it. Bilbo refused to reply. Instead, he started begging, Bella to wake up, talking about a promise, and adventures. Again with those stupid, life ruining adventures. The dread and the anger ignited something dark and violent inside of him. “ENOUGH WITH THIS ADVENTURE NONSENSE ! LET ME SEE YOUR MOTHER !” He screamed as he grabbed his son and threw him backwards. He heard the distinct thump of the boy’s head against the wall, but could not find it in himself to care. Bella’s face was pale. Lifeless. Her dark curls were stuck to her still sweaty face, and her pink lips were parted. Bungo fell to his knees, reaching out to her. He caressed her cheek with a shaky hand. She was already getting cold. He had not gotten to say his farewells. She died thinking he did not love her. He let out a strangled, broken sob. Years passed. And he knew she would have wanted him to grow closer to Bilbo, to compensate the void she left behind. But he could simply not bring himself to love that boy. It made him feel guilty towards Bella, towards the boy too, but it was still not enough for him to love a son that is so much like his dead love, and so hated by the whole community. At meals, his son had first tried to talk about Belladonna, sparking his anger. Then he had changed subject, talking about adventures, of all things. Bungo had been so furious, he had thrown his plate at the wall next to Bilbo. The sound of it shattering had not covered his scream. “YOUR STUPID ADVENTURES ARE WHAT GOT YOUR MOTHER SICK IN THE FIRST PLACE !” After that, meals were silent. He heard whispers that Mister Odulf Hayward was trying to put Bilbo back into the right path, and though that maybe there was a chance for him to grow to like his son, after all. Not long after he heard those rumors, his son dared disturb him while he was reading. “Father ?” Something about Bilbo’s voice made him lift his head to look at him. “Yes ?” “Mister Odulf Hayward, my dance teacher, asked me to ask you if it would be alright if he gave me private lessons.” The tone of the young teen felt wrong, so incredibly wrong, as if he was asking for help but unable to form the right words. Well, that would be his adventurous side refusing to get forgotten. “Wondrous ! How patient Mister Hayward must be, to want to spend so much time with you ! I heard he is making you into a proper hobbit.” Bilbo kept silent. Bungo frowned. The boy seemed far too reticent. “I hope you are grateful for what he is giving you, boy.” He spat, suddenly angry. He always was when Bilbo was around. “He is giving you the opportunity to finally be normal.” Bilbo seemed about to cry before he swiftly left the room. “As weak as a girl, that one.” Bungo muttered to himself. A month later, Bungo was peacefully taking a walk around Hobbiton when Odulf approached him, adjusting his walking speed to the Baggins’. “Mister Baggins ! Do you have a minute to talk about your son ?” “What about him ?” Bungo frowned. News about Bilbo were never good ones. “It is about his… Unusual preferences.” “Believe me, his preferences for… Adventures, have not gotten unnoticed.” “No no, Mister Baggins, I am not talking about those preferences…” “Then, what ?” Bungo was growing impatient now. He was having a perfectly good day until Odulf Hayward reminded him that he had a son. “I am talking about Bilbo’s preferences for hobbits of the same sex, Mister Baggins.” Odulf’s tone was a grave one, and no one in the Shire would joke about things like that. Those things were usually dealt with privately, as it was a huge shame for a hobbit to be homosexual, or to have a homosexual hobbit in their family. Taking his long silence for confusion, Odulf clarified. “What am I saying is, Mister Baggins, that your son is a homosexual.” Bilbo was gay. Bungo fainted. That night, he got himself drunk, and called his son. “Take off your shirt, Bilbo.” “Fa-father, I would rather not to.” “TAKE OF YOU FUCKING SHIRT YOU UNGRATEFUL SON !” Bilbo flinched and took off his shirt immediately. He took a stick and approached slowly. “Odulf’s lessons aren’t enough” He slurred. “I’m gonna teach you how to behave, you fucking disgrace !” His son’s screams of pain did not stop him this time. They did not stop him the next times either. Eventually they stopped, turning into weak sobs, then, after a year, Bilbo learned to take the punishment silently. But Bilbo never stopped being abnormal, and the Shire could not blame Belladonna any longer, so they blamed Bungo, and one by one, he lost his friends. Gandalf visited once when Bilbo was going to turn 32, and it was only the second time he saw Bilbo, but he asked to bring the boy on a walk. Bungo had been forced to accept, no one sane would refuse anything to a Wizard, after all. That night was the first night he drew blood on Bilbo’s back. One night the winter that followed only two month later, the boy decided to rebel for the first time. Bungo was lecturing him about his abnormalness during dinner when the teen muttered something under his breath. He was almost shaking with tension, his clenched fists resting politely on the table nonetheless. “What is that, boy ?” “I said : I am sick of you all.” “Pardon me ?” “I AM SICK OF YOU, SICK OF MISTER ODULF, SICK EVERYONE ! When I will be of age, I will leave the Shire, never to return again !” “BOY ! CALM DOWN THIS INSTANT ! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS !” Bilbo’s jaw clenched shut, but he kept glaring at Bungo. His eyes had a dangerous glint inside of them, like something dark and painful was burning there. He attempted to stare his son down, but the teen would not budge. “Take off your shirt.” He demanded, voice cold with fury. “On your knees.” Still, Bilbo did not move an inch. “NOW !” “No.” “Boy, if you think this act of rebellion will lead you anywhere, you are even stupider than I thought.” He spat, standing up. “I hate you.” Bilbo growled lowly, but his eyes did not show anger, they held pain. Bungo noticed, and smirked. “Well if you hate me so much, why not leave now ? It would be a relief for the whole Shire.” He expected his son to melt down, to ask for forgiveness like the weak thing he is. Instead, he could only watch as the boy ran from the smial with nothing but his night clothes on his back. “BOY !” His call went ignored. An hour passed. Then two. Then four, and the sun had completely sunk below the horizon. Five, and it started snowing again, heavy snowflakes covering the already white ground. The stupid fauntling would die if he stayed outside in this weather. Especially in those clothes. “I don’t care. I want to get rid of him anyway.” He muttered, trying to convince himself not to help. Half an hour more. “Maybe he went to Odulf.” Bungo thought aloud again. Hearing his own voice in the empty room comforted him. “I should not let Odulf handle him alone. The poor man does so much for him already.” He put on two of his warmest coats, as well as his thickest boots, and out he went, to Mister Odulf’s smial. It was a ten minutes walk, and Bilbo must have ran, so the little disgrace probable did not even have the time to get cold. As it was, Bungo was already shivering despite his two coats. Hobbit really were not creatures made to support such low temperatures. When Odulf opened the door, he looked half asleep, which made a strange feeling creep inside Bungo’s chest. He was worried. Worried that his son was alone, out there, in clothes that really were not fit to survive a winter night in the Shire. “Where is he ?!” He demanded, even though he knew Odulf had no idea. “Who ? Are you alright Bungo ?” “Bilbo ! Bilbo ran away and he is only in his night clothes !” “What ? And you let him go outside ?” Bungo buried his face in his hands and gritted his teeth. “I had no idea he would be stupid enough to do that. Oh Odulf, I don’t want to have the death of a child on my hands, the Thain will never let it go, no matter how much everyone wants to get rid of Bilbo !!” A soothing hand landed on his shoulder, and Bungo leaned into the touch. No one ever comforted him anymore. His entire life was as cold as the ground beneath his feet. “I’ll help you find him, just let me get my coat. I think I know where he went anyway, but you will not be able to find the place on your own.” Ten minutes later, they were walking into the woods of the Shire, holding a lantern between the two of them to be able to see where they stepped. “He built a tree house not far from here a few years ago when the Sackville-Baggins kids began bothering him too much. Although he started it, if you ask me.” Bungo hummed. He did not care. All he wanted was to avoid being called a child murderer. And maybe, just maybe, he slightly cared about the fauntling with soft blonde curls that had the power to bring a smile to his Bella, the one with bright emerald eyes that his family still loved, that the community did not judge guilty of oddness yet. “Bilbo !” He called. “Come home now !” “BILBO !” Odulf yelled. “YOU WILL DIE IF YOU STAY OUT TONIGHT !” Wolves howled in the distance. “This is not reassuring Bungo, maybe we ought to go home and see if Bilbo has the common sense to find somewhere warm at least.” “No, we need to find him. I will not be called a child murderer !” They kept walking silently for a few minutes, only calling Bilbo from time to time. When they arrived in a clearing, Odulf stopped. “I.. I could have sworn it was there, Bungo.” Wolves made themselves heard again, but they were closer this time. Much closer. Bungo looked around him warily, and he thought he saw glinting pairs of eyes surrounding them in the darkness. “Odulf, maybe we should move on from here and search somewhere else.” “Yes. I think his tree house is a bit more to the east, it’s hard to recognize the way in the dark.” Out of the corner of his eye, Bungo saw a shadow move. At first he thought it was a wolf, but it was humanoid and it was running away from them. “BILBO !” He cried as he started running. Behind him, multiple growls came from the shadows. “The wolves are after us !” Shrieked Odulf as he ran next to him, then ahead of him. Bungo cursed mentally. He had never been fast, even for a hobbit. Teeth slammed shut somewhere near his ankle, and he felt the hot breath of the beast to which they belonged. The pure terror made him run faster. He could no longer see the silhouette of his son, but he was sure that it was him he had seen. “BILBO !” He screamed. But screaming made him waste his precious, shortening breath, and he coughed. The lantern he was still holding fell and he heard a yelp behind him. He turned to see if the wolf had fallen, but was met with two horrible, glinting eyes. Before he could register what was happening, the wolf jumped on his leg. He felt his bone getting crushed by the predator’s strong jaw and he went to the ground, shrieking. Then it was a blur. He called for Odulf, for Bilbo, but none answered, and more wolves arrived. One of them bit his throat and Bungo heard his own screams die in his throat, as he drowned in his blood. He looked up to the sky. The trees were moving, blurring everything. There were ever growing black stains obstructing his vision, but he could still see the moon and it was, ironically enough, perfectly half full. Bella. Flashes of that night he had proposed to her came to his delirious, dying mind. He remembered the green of the grass, the freshness of the summer night air, the love and innocence in her smile, in her eyes. ‘I love you’ he thought desperately through the gore and the pain as his world dimmed, and then stopped. --- The news traveled around the Shire quickly. Bungo and Odulf were dead. Killed by wolves. They had crossed the frozen river, some explained. What about Bungo’s son, Bilbo isn’t it ? A neighbor said she heard them calling for him as they entered the forest. Others asked, eyes wide. What if the boy finally snapped and decided to get rid of them ? Some of those added. He has always been odd, after all. No don’t say that, the poor thing is all alone now ! Protested a few, but they did not sound convinced by their pwn concern. The Thain was called. Bilbo was declared innocent, to the utter dismay of the community of the Shire. He inherited Bag-End, and from then on, having no one left in the whole world, the young hobbit lived alone. --- In a hole in the ground, there lived a lonely hobbit. No guests ever stepped through Bilbo Baggins’ green round door and into his smial. He had no friends, and although he had family, they never seeked his company. To the hobbits of the Shire, Bilbo Baggins was a murderer. To Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins was worthless, odd. A nuisance. A disgrace. The morning of his 33rd birthday, Bilbo woke up from a dream about his mother. They had been painting together a huge, lonely mountain, while she told him tales of a wandering dwarf king who had lost everything. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and went on about his day, pretending it was a normal one. He knew that he would feel better if he cried, if he let himself be weak just for a little while, but he could not bring himself to, not when the fear of crying had been beaten into him by his father. Fear. It was one of the few things he could feel. Pain, fear, guilt, self hatred, numbness. He did not count the times when he was so captivated by a book that he forgot who he was and started actually imagining himself being one of the characters living a glorious adventure. It was shameful. He was not a child anymore. He did not count those times when he imagined himself as someone else, receiving a love the real him did not deserve, because those were not real emotions those were fantasies. His favorite feeling was feeling nothing at all. It was the only moments of peace in his life. He could not count the feelings his fantasies brought to him as peaceful, for they always called for a storm of self loathing and fear. Some days he would feel his father’s presence, as if he was watching him, ready to jump on him and scream at him about the abnormality that he is. These days he usually spent curled up in his bedroom closet, fighting off the tears and hyperventilating, although he knew that logically, there was nothing at all. He was mad. He had gone mad. There was no way his father had survived the wolves. Still at night, he could hear imaginary noises and steps, growls and howls, and he would try so very hard not to scream, but he was too weak, too terrified. A year went by, and snow came again. Bilbo was watching the snowfall outside the window, face blank. He barely ate, but he still had to restock his pantry at least once a month, or every two months if he had a particularly bad few weeks. So weak. And now he had to go to the market, while it was snowing and the ground was probably just as freezing as it had been when Odulf had… No. He was not going to think about that now, there was no use thinking about that now, no use remembering the feeling of helplessness, the panic. The blood. NO. He had to get food, and that also meant that he had to stop being so damn weak. The past could not hurt him. Except, it was hurting him. There was no denying it. Although, Bilbo was stubborn, and if he had decided that the past was not able to hurt him, then it was not hurting him, the illogical fears were just a result of his madness. Mad Baggins, he killed his father and poor Odulf. They say. They are right. The guilt was agonizing, though, so maybe he was not completely mad yet. Bilbo put on his boots, put on his coat, and then a second. And then a third, this one with a hood big enough so that he could cover half his face with it. It did not matter, everyone would recognize him anyway, but at least it would give him some privacy if someone said something that caused him to break. He stepped outside, and instantly the cold air stung his exposed skin. He flinched when he heard howls in the distance, but they turned into the sound of children playing, so he mentally slapped himself. The travel to the market and back proved to be surprisingly peaceful. Maybe it was because Bilbo kept himself busy by making up a story, or maybe it was because no one dared talk to him, but he just had to quietly ask for ‘the usual’ and give his money to the merchants, and he was off. Yavanna, he hated the snow, though. The next years, he stocked his pantry enough to last the whole winter. The other hobbits never asked him why, but he knew they would talk. They would probably say he was turning into a beast of some sort. Beast. Glinting eyes turning on him, teeth bared, then getting distracted by a lantern light in the distance. No. Almost twenty years passed that way. Twenty lonely birthdays, and as many winters spent shivering and screaming in the night, needing comfort and reassurance that would never, ever come. The hate of his neighbors increased, they got bolder every year, starting to see him less like a menace and more like the weak, pathetic, unlovable thing he truly was. Now they would insult him when he passed by on his way to the market. The fauntlings would throw rotten fruits. Boys would make kissing sounds at him while the others pretended they were throwing up. Merchants would ask him to pay almost twice the price.   He turned 50, and decided to exceptionally sit outside, on the bench where he sat everyday with his mother when she read him stories. Here it was, half a century of a life he could not be wasting more. He took out his pipe, stuffed it, and lit it. What a waste of such a good pipe-weed. Someone else would actually enjoy it instead of staying apathetic. No one wanted him here. No one had ever wanted him anywhere except his mother when she was still alive. She was dead now, though. Maybe Bilbo should follow after her. He closed his eyes, not sure if he was mourning or trying to enjoy the sunlight. After only a few seconds, something obstructed the sun. The hobbit opened his eyes, only to find himself looking at a huge man with a pointy hat. Everything about his was grey, from his clothes to his eyes, without of course, forgetting the hat. And that man was staring at him with eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul. “Good morning,” He greeted, not sure if this was the sign that he had finally totally gone mad or not. Or maybe the suicidal thoughts from just a minute ago were the sign he was looking for. The tall man hummed. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" Bilbo stayed speechless for a few seconds. It had been two decades since he had had a real conversation with someone, and now this man engaged one with him, and he was thrilled to finally talk to someone other than himself, really, but… He had forgotten how. “All… All of them at once, I suppose.” He tried hesitantly. The man hummed again, still staring at him like he could see beyond his eyes. Bilbo grew uncomfortable. “Can I help you ?” He did not want to help him. He wanted him to leave him alone. “That remains to be seen.” And why was he talking like that ? Did everyone talk like that outside of the Shire ? “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.” Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. “A-an… An adventure.” “Yes.” The hobbit grimaced as pain shot through his back. He knew that pain all too well, it was the ghost of a pain that had faded a long time ago, but he remembered it each time there was a mention of what caused it, like some sort of curse Bungo had put on him. He stood up and swiftly made his way to his door. He stopped at the doorstep and turned back to the man. “Good morning.” He stated, this time conveying a very clear meaning : I am not interested, leave and never come back. He was turning again, about to step inside the safety of his smial, away from this strange grey man, away from adventures, away from the pain torturing his old scars, when the stranger spoke again, his angry tone making Bilbo flinch and cover his head. For a second he was sure that a plate would come flying at his head. Then the man stopped talking and Bilbo’s brain slowly processed what he had heard. “To think I should have lived to be bid good morning by Belladonna Took’s son ! As if I was selling buttons at the door !” His heart skipped a beat again. Belladonna. Ma. This man knew her. “B-beg your pardon ?” He heard himself ask. “You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better Bilbo Baggins.” Well that was new. Bungo would have been pleased at him refusing to go on an adventure. Actually, everyone but his mother would have been pleased. Then it occurred to him that this man was not supposed to know his name. “I-I’m sorry, do I know you ?” “Well you know my name, although you don’t remember that I belong to it. I’m Gandalf !” Gandalf.. Gandalf… “... And Gandalf means.. Me.” Fireworks. Hugs. Huge grey robes, pointy hat, colors in the sky. A tale Bilbo had never heard before as he was falling asleep in the arms of the giant. Gandalf. Gandalf the wizard. Ma’s friend from her adventures. Gandalf was staring at him with disappointment in his eyes. Bilbo could not be mistaken, he knew how to spot disappointment in someone’s eyes better than anything else. Bungo’s had been full of it, after all. So the wizard was disappointed in him. A painful lump formed in his throat and he closed his eyes briefly. That was not supposed sting so fiercely, but then again, he guessed it was normal. He had always thought that his mother would stay proud of him, love him no matter what, but here was her friend, someone who had to share a lot of views with his mother, and the wizard was disappointed. Bilbo suddenly grew aware of the silence that was stretching for too long. “Uh.. Yes, I remember. Gandalf the wandering wizard, with the fireworks. Great fireworks by the way, quite impressing really.” Gandalf’s eyes changed to something Bilbo could not quite read, but it looked very close to sadness. He looked around him at the garden that Bilbo had long since forgotten to maintain. The green paint on the door was old and almost gone. The windows were dirty. “You look awfully lonely, my dear Bilbo.” He said, and it surprisingly did not sound like an insult. Then his gaze returned to the hobbit hovering at the door. Bilbo wanted Gandalf to leave him alone, to leave him alone right now or he might cry. “This will be good for you.” He stated, determined. Except Bilbo knew that tone, for he used it very often. That was the tone of someone who was trying to convince themselves. “Let it be clear, Gandalf, that there will be no adventure wanted here, not today, not tomorrow, not ever ! Adventures are filthy things that destroy your reputation and make you make the wrong life choices ! I will not take part in any of this as long as I am alive !” He paused, breathless and not entirely sure of what exact words he had just said. “Good morning.” He said once again, before rushing inside his smial and closing the door behind him, locking it. Not a second after he had secured the lock, he heard a strange sound coming from the bottom of his door. Terrified, he put all his weight against the gate, hoping it would hold, but then the humming stopped and the door remained closed. Bilbo waited a dozen of seconds longer before risked a glance at his window, only to see the wizard’s retreating back. Yeah, he had probably gone mad. He went to the living room and sat on the old armchair, trying to figure out what to do now. He knew for sure that if he was mad, he was at risk of hurting people. And he did not want to hurt people, no matter how much they hurt him, no matter how much he hated them. Which brought back to his thoughts from earlier. Suicide seemed to be a quite good option really. The Shire would get rid of him, and Bilbo would get rid of Bilbo. If death was like the nothingness he imagined, then it would feel a thousand times sweeter than all of the night terrors and the horrifying, crushing feeling of loneliness. And so he took his decision : he would die tonight. He spent the rest of the day preparing. He first wrote his will, as it was what he thought would take him the longest time, but actually, what took the most time was choosing how to die. Poison ? He knew he had some somewhere. A noose ? A fire ? that would hurt. But then again, he deserve to suffer after what he had done to his parents. He was the cause of both of their deaths. A murderer. How do murderers get executed ? Bilbo did not know. They never have murderers in the Shire. He could also open his wrists with a kitchen knife. Or try to drown himself in the bath. That would require some ingenierie but Bilbo had built a tree house all by himself once- No. He was not thinking about that today, not ever again. Sun was already starting to set and he still hesitated between bleeding out and drowning. He had decided that the fire would be endangering the neighbors, and he could not find the poison. He decided that while he tried to pick between blood and water, he would prepare his last meal. He did not care at all about the menu, because everything was tasteless to him, had been for decades, ever since his mother died. That is how he found himself gazing thoughtfully at his fish and veggies. He had subconsciously made what his mother always cooked him when he was sick. And still he could not choose between the two potential deaths. Because he found that he did not actually know what he prefered : painless and slow, or painful and quick, or maybe slow and numb ? He did not even know how it felt, and no one in the Shire would be able to tell him anyway. Maybe drowning what absolutely agonizing. Maybe bleeding out was like falling asleep. Or maybe it was the opposite. He groaned. Even dying proved to be a hard task for him. He truly was disappointing. That is when he heard a knock on the door. An hallucination, again ? Bilbo really had to hurry before his madness took it to the next step, whatever that next step was. It was probably violence, though. He stood up and went to open the door anyway. Who knew, maybe one of his neighbors had decided to come by and say hello for the first time in his life.   Behind the door stood a giant, half bald dwarf. “Dwalin, at your service.” He said as he placed a hand on his chest and bowed slightly. Now, that, that was… A weird hallucination. Very odd, even for Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna Took. So what… What if this was real ? What if a wizard had shown up at his doorstep, ignored his refusal to go on an adventure, and invited a dwarf (a dwarf !) into his smial ?

May 20, 20xx Ren knew it was a dream. But it was a good dream, so he didn’t mind. It was a memory. He was waking up in Kamakura, on a winter morning. The inn was empty; his parents had taken a short vacation in the offseason, leaving the place to him. He felt warmth at his side. He smiled, turning to face her. The memory was different, here. That was okay, though. It was just a dream. “Ann...” He said, reaching to brush hair from her face. It was a happier time. He wouldn’t have even known Ann, then. He glanced away, at the window. It was definitely still the middle of winter. He looked back to the sleeping girl, recognizing now the features of Reiko. Her eyes were open, now. Smiling at him. It was warm, on this winter morning. Too warm. >>> Joker’s eyes snapped open. He sprang to his feet, using his gloved hands to frantically beat at the flames making their way up his tailcoat. “Holy shit…! What the hell happened?! Why am I on fire?!” Ann was standing off to the side, arms crossed, body turned away from Ren. She may have been pouting, her nose in the air. Ryuji and Yusuke looked awkward. Mona looked confused, speaking up. “Er, well… After you took down the Curator, you passed out from the cold. Ann-dono got to you first and was at your side, holding you. Then you said her name, while you were out.” “What’s wrong with that?!” Ren shot at Ann, patting out the last of the flames. “Well, then you said Reiko’s name, too.” “...Oh.” Ren said. For a moment, he understood why Ann was upset. Except for the one, undeniable fact. Ren looked at Ann. “You lit me on fire. ” Ann shrugged, nonchalant. “You were really cold.” “You lit me. On fire .” “It worked, didn’t it?” Ren opened his mouth, words failing to find their way to the young fighter. The conversation was forcibly truncated anyhow by the shouts of guards, alerted by Madarame. Ryuji fired his shotgun down the corridor at the approaching guards, forcing them behind cover. “We need to go!” The Phantom Thieves ran for the exit. At the causeway leading to the door, Mona transformed, his back door springing open. “Come on!” Ryuji and Ren pushed Yusuke into the back. Ren found himself sitting beside Ann in the middle row; he leaned out the window, firing behind Mona as Ryuji took the wheel. He looked at Ann. “We are not done talking about this.” “Talking about what? I just defrosted you.” “ You lit me on fire.” “Whine, whine, whine…” She rolled her eyes, grumbling something about how the score was ‘two to one’. Panther put down her SMG as they got away from the firing guards. She sidled up to Joker. “Don’t tell me it got too hot for you, Joker.” Once again, words failed Joker. >>> May 21, 20xx After school the gang, with the addition of Yusuke, had agreed to meet at Leblanc. Ren walked toward the cafe from the station. He had foisted Mona off on Ann and cut his last class, claiming that he wasn’t feeling well. At first, Kawakami had looked skeptical. But she relented - after his exam score, she had nothing to complain about. To Ren’s eye, the teacher may have even seemed somewhat contrite. She was, after all, the first person he met at Shujin. And also the first person to have completely written him off. As he looked at the letter Reiko had left with Sojiro for him,  he realized he probably had been telling the truth about feeling unwell, anyway. ‘Ren, I was really happy to see you again. I wasn’t lying, on the phone. I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t. But now, I understand what you meant when you said you aren’t sure who you are, anymore. Right now, I need to go home to check on Father. I promise you, I won’t just disappear again. You deserve more than that. Remember what I said. Not everything is your responsibility. You can’t make things go back to the way they were. But, maybe we can find a way forward? For both of us. I’ll be in touch. Stay safe, Ren-kun. Reiko’ Ren folded the paper carefully, sliding it into his jacket pocket. He shook his head, kicking at an empty can on the sidewalk. ‘Not my responsibility, Rei-chan…?’ He knew that was true, of course. But knowing something isn’t the same as feeling something. He approached Leblanc, his hand on the door. He then turned, heading down the alley opposite the door. He stepped into a doorway and backed into the shadows. He quirked a little smile, watching as Makoto Niijima quickly walked by. The manga she had in her hands to conceal her face  was now dangling by one hand as she frantically tried to find her target again. She reached the end of the alley. Silently, Ren moved back to the mouth of the passage while her back was turned. He found two trash cans; one of them filled with half-full cans of old paint, the other filled with recycling. Many aluminum cans. He ensured that neither of them were so heavy that they wouldn’t easily fall and placed each one at either side of the alley’s entrance. Then, keeping an eye on Makoto, he carefully tied them together at ankle height using the monofilament line he had from his last shift at Untouchable. He then returned to the door of Leblanc, coughing loudly and ensuring that the bell over the door rang loudly. “Hey, Boss.” “You’re early, kid. You feeling okay? ...Why are you peeking out the window like that?” Sojiro’s question was answered by a surprised yelp and the incredibly loud crashing of aluminum hitting pavement, followed by the wet sounding splash of paint. Ren stepped outside, his phone out. He placidly snapped photos of one Makoto Niijima, floundering in a puddle of blue, red, and yellow paint as she desperately tried to put the cans back. “Yep. That’s it. Show me your good side, Niijima. ...If your good side is your middle finger, that’s fine, I guess.” “What is wrong with you?! Who carries a tripwire?!” Makoto snapped. “A delinquent.” Ren replied, stooping down to help put the cans away. “Who carries a tankoubon manga volume to hide their face when spying on someone? I can still see the entire upper half of your face. And your weird braid-hairband thing.” “It’s my actual--” “It’s not your actual hair.” Ren said, still placidly. “God, you’re annoying.” “Then why are you following me?” He righted the trash can as Makoto did the same with the one full of paint cans, before she wiped miserably at her uniform. “I… I wasn’t!” Makoto snapped, blushing. “ Really . The star student of Shujin, skipping last period for fun .” Ren said, raising an eyebrow. “Look. Like I said, I have to find out what’s going on at Shujin…” “And what have you found, by following me?” Ren asked, raising his hands. “Anything at all other than the fact that I topped the second year exam scores. I think I might have even done better than you did when you were in second year.” “....Nothing. Not yet .” Makoto said, fiercely. Ren sighed. “...I know Kobayakawa probably sicced you on us. But, look. There’s other places you should look, if you really want to help the students.” “I’m listening…” Ren thought to what Takanashi and Sakoda had told him - the bullies they had changed in Mementos during one of their earlier forays while studying for exams. “Students are getting into trouble. There’s something going on in Shibuya… People are getting their money taken, or else being forced to do work because of ‘debts’ that they incurred. I’d start there.” Ren said, thinking as well of the students that Madarame had alluded to. The ones he had ‘sold’. “How do you even know this? That in itself is suspicious.” “I’m a delinquent, remember? People tell me things that they wouldn’t tell the Supreme Leader of the Student High Council.” “I’m not the Supreme Leader.” “Sure. Primary colors suit you, by the way. Too bad it’s not in style this year.” Ren waved, turning to head back into Leblanc. “See you, Your Excellency.” >>> “...Ah. So you’re saying if we steal Sensei’s desires, he’ll become an honest man?” “That’s the idea.” Ren said. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs. “It worked on Kamoshida.” Ann nodded. “There seems to be a risk of mental shutdowns, though. We aren’t sure what triggers it. But that’s why we’ve been really selective of our targets… We only go if it’s unanimous, and if there really isn’t any other option.” Mona nodded. “That’s right. Kamoshida backed us into a corner, so we took the shot. With Madarame…” “Ah. There is that, actually.” Yusuke said, slowly. “When I returned home, Sensei seemed to accept that I had gotten lost trying to chase Sakamoto-kun and Takamaki-san. But he was… suspicious. He is going to look into pressing charges against you two after the show.” “Shit.” Ryuji cursed. “That gives us…” “Until the 31st.” Ann finished. “But what about you, Kitagawa-kun? Is he going to do anything to you?” “It’s hard to know for certain.” Yusuke said. “He has increased the pressure on me to produce artwork for him before the show is over. And he’s increased the number of deliveries I have to do…” Ren let his chair come back down with a thump. “We have to assume that he’s trying to get everything he can out of you before getting rid of you, Kitagawa. Even if he’s only wanting to go after Ann and Ryuji, he probably can’t discount the fact that you saw his Sayuri counterfeit operation. He’s going to use you and discredit you as soon as it’s convenient.” Yusuke shook his head slowly at the matter-of-fact breakdown. “I… I’ve been a fool.” “You have.” Ren said. “Bro…” Ryuji breathed. “That’s a bit harsh.” “It is,” Ren said. “But he’s been under that man’s control for years. His entire worldview is based off of a man who exploits people who are basically children by comparison. The sooner Yusuke comes to grips with that, the faster we can help him build himself back up.” Ann blinked, looking at Ren. She caught the use of the boy’s given name, and his change in tone. She smiled at the leader of the Phantom Thieves. “Ren…” Ren nodded at Yusuke. “You’re one of us, Yusuke. You’ve been exploited, kicked to the curb, and the bastard expects you to just take it. If you want in, you’re in. We’ll help you find vengeance or justice. Your call as to which.” “...After everything I did?” Ren shrugged. “I punched you in the gut, choked you, and then slapped you upside the head. There’s not much more I can ask. Unless, Ann…?” Ann shook her head. “Just… no more nude paintings.” “Ah. So non-nudes would…” “Absolutely not.” Ren said, cheerfully. “Anyway. Should we get to work?” Ryuji brightened. It was his turn, and his favorite part. “Ah, just wait. Yusuke, you’re going to love this.” He reached into his bag, pulling out an airsoft rifle that had been field stripped. He quickly reassembled it. Yusuke watched in shock, as the blonde showed more care and dexterity than he would have thought possible. Within seconds, the assembled Steyr AUG A3 was in Yusuke’s hands. The bullpup design was unusual, and the smooth lines of the European design seemed to fit the artist. “Uh… ..it’s…” To Yusuke, it was just a gun. But on Ryuji’s face, he saw the same eager look that a young art student might have on showing off their portfolio. “...It’s very beautiful.” Yusuke finished. “I know, right?!” Ren hid a smile behind his hand, winking at Yusuke. “Ryuji’s a genius when it comes to this sort of thing. Anyway… Shall we?” The team filed out. Ann caught Ren’s elbow, getting him to fall into step beside her behind the rest.  “Say, Ren… You never told us how things went in Mementos yesterday. Mona said the mission was successful, but there was a complication?” Ren frowned. “...Yeah. Reiko knows. She accidentally got pulled in with us.” “Oh!” Ann gasped. “Is she… is she okay?” Ren nodded. “She seems to be. She didn’t take me shooting and stabbing the Shadow version of her father particularly well, but that’s understandable.” Ann glanced at Ren. His carefully guarded expression. It was indeed understandable - but she could see it was bothering him, even now. “I can tell it’s bothering you. You were helping her, Ren. It’s because of you that she was able to go back home, and…” “She asked me to run away with her, Ann.” Ren said, suddenly. “She… she what?! What did you say?!” “Nothing. Nothing, yet.” Ren shook his head. “...And how did you feel about it? What do you want to do?” “It’s impossible. I’m on probation and even if we changed her father’s heart, being with her would just--” “That’s not what I asked.” “...I don’t know, Ann.” Ren said, quietly. “I don’t know. Half of me wanted to say yes. Half of me wanted to say no. I’m… I’m sorry.” Ann bit her lip. “...No. Don’t be sorry. You’re doing what I told you. You’re talking to me and you’re thinking of a future where you’re alive. Just do me a favor, Ren.” “Anything.” “As soon as you figure it out… Tell me if it’s a future where I’m in it or not.” >>> May 25, 20xx In Madarame’s Palace, the guards were on high alert. Ever since the ‘impenetrable barrier’ had been breached, the guards were patrolling with more frequency and a complex system of laser nets had been installed around the main treasure hall. But, the ‘Spider-Man Rule’ still applied: nobody ever looked up, happily assuming that all of their trouble would only show up at eye level. The five Phantom Thieves perched above the Treasure, looking down at the amorphous, swirling light. It was right there, seemingly within grasp. Except for the laser nets, the multiple armed guards, and Madarame himself, standing in front of it. They were all tired. It had been a grueling few days - traversing through two dimensional mazes hidden in paintings, and then a twisted world of stairs and Sayuri copies. Only one of them was eager for a fight. Fox’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. His left thumb pushed on the tsuba of his sword, unsheathing the first inch of the razor-sharp blade. Joker reached over without looking, his hand covering the koiguchi . “Not so hasty, Fox.” Yusuke whispered harshly, his voice nearly a hiss. “The fiend is there! You told me you’d help me find my justice! My vengeance!” Joker regarded his ally, his expression cool. Yusuke had changed; his other self, his rebellious self, had attracted the notice of Goemon, the famous Japanese ninja, thief, and folk hero. The man who even when being boiled to death for his crimes against the state, showed defiance. This, coupled with his revelation that he had been utterly betrayed by the man he considered a father… It made sense that Yusuke’s sense of self-preservation was somewhat suspect right now. “And we will. We will.” Joker said, indicating the team. “We’re going to do it, and we’re going to get out alive.” Fox glared at Joker, before reluctantly sheathing his katana. “Fine. Then, Joker, what is your plan?” Joker looked at the Treasure, then the hook in front of them. And then, the window across from them. He smirked. “Mona. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to descend on the treasure suspended by that hook.” “...Why wouldn’t I accept it?” Joker sighed. He started to explain the sequence from Mission Impossible. Yet another American movie reference, where Tom Cruise had been lowered down from the ceiling. It was perfect, because the actor was almost as short as Mona… “Mission Impossible.” Ann said, quietly. “American movie again.” She winked at Ren. “Quite the cinephile, Wildcard.” ‘Be still my beating heart.’ Joker almost said. The joke didn’t make it to his lips, though. Too soon. Too rife with landmines. He settled for a nod, and then turned to Ryuji and Ann. “We’ll need a distraction so that Mona doesn’t get shot up on the way down or on the way up. That’s where you two come in. You’re going to break into the control room and turn off the laser nets.” Ryuji frowned. “But we’ve been over that. The backup power…” “Exactly. We’re going to act like we don’t know about the backup. So you’re going to kill the mains, and then act like the plan’s gone FUBAR. Draw all the guards to you, then book it. You’ve both been training hard with me, so I know you’ve got the speed.” “Right.” Ann said, confidently. Yusuke’s impatience settled as he listened. While he was still simultaneously terrified and jealous of Ren Amamiya, he had come to respect the battle strength and resourcefulness of Joker. “And me, Joker?” “Your weapon is best suited of all of us to cover Mona, Fox. If they notice him, you’ll need to pick off the guards before they can shoot him. When we get out, talk to Skull about getting a scope for your gun. As for me, I’ll be running the crane. I’ll also be secondary backup for Mona.” Mona grinned excitedly. “This is great! A real heist!” “That’s right. Let’s adjourn.” As they left, Ryuji took Yusuke’s gun for the modification. He looked over at Ren. “Hey, man. So how’s having two working out?” “Prettty well.” Ren said, taking out his 1911’s. “I’ve been working on it with Shin. He says I ‘don’t suck’, now.” “Hah. I’ve seen that kid around. He’s a little shit, but one hell of a player. His mom’s a bit of a monster, though.” Ren frowned. “Yeah. I worry about him, sometimes… Ah. He’ll tell me if he needs to talk about it, I’m sure.” “So did you name them, yet?” “...Name them?” “Well, yeah. That’s a lot of custom work. They deserve names.” Ren looked at the pistols, glancing at the one detailed in black and red. He smirked. “Alright, Ryuji. I’ll pretend to be a gun otaku. Vengeance , for the original. For the twin… I’ll think about it.” >>> May 27, 20xx Yusuke walked to the art gallery from the station on Thursday evening. In the past few weeks, he had dreaded it. It was another day of toil, of pretending to be the unknowing and unquestioning slave of a man who hid his demonic thirst for money behind a kindly old face. Every day was a struggle to not take a paint brush or whatever else was nearby and vaguely pointy, and shove it through the arrogant man’s eye. But today, he walked with anticipation. Today was the day that Madarame would receive his calling card. Oddly enough, the calling card was Yusuke’s first original work in a while. And certainly the first original piece that hadn’t been claimed by Madarame for his own purposes. The irony was not lost on the slender young man as he rounded the corner. He arrived, just as Madarame’s car pulled up for this evening’s opening of the event. Above the gallery, just as the cameras started flashing for the artist’s arrival, three weather balloons that had been tethered to the roof by Ryuji popped. A rain of fluttering cards drifted down, many scattering in the wind, but the majority falling among Madarame and his entourage like red and black snow. Madarame, startled, knelt down and picked up a card. “Ichiryusai Madarame, the Da Vinci of Despair and Greed. Your days of stealing the work dreams, and very lives of your disciples is over. Confess your sins and beg the public you have deceived for forgiveness, or we will steal your twisted desires and force you to. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts…” The PR staff and security guards frantically collected the cards. The press fought over them. It was absolute chaos. Only Yusuke noticed the look on Madarame’s face; a rictus of rage and fear. Yusuke turned on his heel, walking away from the gallery with a thin smile. ‘I think I’ll work on my marksmanship. I doubt anyone will notice my absence at the gallery…’ >>> May 28, 20xx “What I’m saying, Skull, is that I think the weather balloons were a bit much.” Panther said, lashing her whip around the neck of a guard. She threw her mask into the air, Carmen appearing and charging the girl’s weapon with flame. The guard’s head was immediately incinerated; Ann then whirled, lashing out with the laser-like weapon at two more guards in the control room. She moved with agility and aggression, like an odd mix between a lion tamer and a rhythmic gymnast as her weapon cut the guards to flaming ribbons. “Oh come on, it was awesome! Everyone’s gonna be talking about us! Joker seemed to like it, too!” Skull said, using the stock of his weapon to bash open the security cover on the control panel.. “Didn’t you see the grin on his face?” “Oh, puh-lease. He’s a huge drama queen. Of course he’d like it. He can’t take two steps without flashing that tailcoat of his.” “Spend a lot of time staring at his ass, huh?” “Oh, shut it.” “Don’t worry. He stares at yours all the time.” “Just hit the damn button.” Ann said. She hid her smile. Things felt like they were gradually getting back to normal, with Reiko gone. It wasn’t really that, though. Somehow, Ren had found his peace. Not in the way he had on Children’s Day. Rather, it seemed he had made a decision. Ann didn’t want to ask him for details, though. For now… For now, this was enough. Fighting side by side. The flirting. The mutual ogling. She had an almost-boyfriend. Ann aimed her UMP down the corridor as Ryuji started shutting down laser nets. ‘I’ll have to change my Facebook status to ‘it’s complicated’. What else do you call a romantic relationship that’s only active during a hail of bullets?’ >>> The almost-boyfriend stood over the Treasure. The item had materialized, now seemingly a wrapped up painting. It was huge. Joker frowned, glancing at Mona. “Mona - can you still lift it?” Mona looked up. To Ren, it seemed like dollar signs were reflected in the cat bandit’s eyes. “Mwe hee hee… When it comes to Treasure, my strength reserves are endless .” “Alright, man. You’re on the hook for this one anyhow.” Fox laughed. “Haha… on the hook. Well said.” Joker looked at Fox strangely. Could it be…? “Anyway, I’ll get to the controls. Don’t want to leave Mona hanging .” “I agree. To bring him back up without the controls would be chainful .” Mona groaned. “I’m going to jump…” The guards ran off in the direction of the control room. Shadow Madarame followed from a safe distance. Joker immediately lowered the hook. >>> Ann and Ryuji slipped away from the guards. “Wow. That was subtle.” Ryuji said, patting away at his still-smoking scarf. “It got the job done, didn’t it?” “I guess. You torched an entire wing of the museum. Did you awaken something in yourself when you lit Joker on fire?” “Why won’t anyone let that go? You light one person on fire, and everyone thinks you’re some kind of pyro. Hey, they’re waiting for us! Let’s go.” The group reconvened at the window. Ren waved them through and led them out. The leader of the Phantom Thieves looked somewhat uneasy, as they scaled down the outer walls of the gaudy, gold-plated museum. Yusuke looked at him as they made the last jump down to the courtyard. “Joker? Why so concerned? This has been…” “Don’t say it.” Ren said. “If you say it, it’s a flag.” “...fairly easy.” Ren sighed. The spotlights blazed on, catching the thieves in full view. Madarame stood on top of the steps leading out of the courtyard, laughing. He gestured. Gunfire from the guards flanking him blew the treasure apart. Mona cried out. “No! The Treasure!” Shadow Madarame cackled. “Were you looking for this?” The real treasure, the original Sayuri (or at least Madarame’s cognition of it) was brought out behind the gold-clad artist. “Predictable. Utterly predictable.” Shadow Madarame sneered. “Did you think that I wouldn’t be preparing for you? This is my realm. My museum. I’ve been able to observe a great many things about each of you. In particular, your lynchpin.” He pointed at Ren. “Without you, ‘Joker’, this team doesn’t amount to much at all, does it?” He pulled out a large paint brush, wielding it like a spear. He dashed toward Joker, the brush slashing out at him, leaving trails of black paint. Ren dodged easily, dancing around the strokes. His allies couldn’t get a clear shot at Madarame, but managed to gun down the guards. He smirked as his blades came out, returning with stabs and slashes and ending with a left jab, the blade stabbing into Madarame’s shoulder, and a chopping right, leaving a nasty wound across his cheek. “Is that all you got, old man?” Ren said, standing in stance, relaxed. Shadow Madarame smiled slowly. He pointed down, at Ren’s feet. The square he had painted around the Phantom Thief turned black… and Joker fell . Panther flung her whip out, just missing his hand. “Joker!” Panther cried. She charged at the void on the floor. It faded to normal before she could reach it. She was forced to dodge back as Shadow Madarame attacked again with his paintbrush. “Oh, don’t worry, my dear. If you can defeat me, your treasured leader will be just fine.” He cackled as his body morphed, splashing into black ink… and reappearing in four frames, his face a distorted, Picasso-esque representation of his face. “That is, of course, a big if .” >>> Ren fell for a long time in the black void. He actually fell for long enough that the fear of plummeting to his death was gradually replaced by a sense of impatience. He eventually slowed. He was let down almost gently onto a surface that he instantly knew, just from the feel of it. Joker half-expected to see Igor, or the twins. Instead, sudden splashes of paint and brush strokes in the void around him drew a glitzy boxing ring, surrounded by fans in 2D. They waved and cheered, but the effect was overall disturbing. Their faces were lifeless. If he looked at them from the side, they were as thin as sheets of cardboard. “...Talk about a flat affect.” Ren murmured. He drew his weapons, coming face to face with Shadow Madarame. Or at least, a copy. “Welcome, Joker.” Shadow Madarame cackled. “I do hope you’ll enjoy this little pocket realm of mine. Going back to your roots. I could tell from watching you and your team that you’re quite the boxer, aren’t you?” “I’m getting really tired of people screwing with me like this.” Ren said. He drew Vengeance and her twin. A sudden hard punch from a painted figure stopped him, forcing Ren to dodge back. A 2D boxer had appeared in front of him - the likeness of Muhammad Ali. “Silly boy. My painting, my rules. This is a boxing ring! No guns allowed! Now, fight!” >>> In the courtyard, the team wasn’t faring well. They had determined the weakness of each of the paintings, but the ‘eyes’ kept healing up and repairing anything they did. Mona cast a healing spell. “We aren’t doing enough damage!” “I can see that, Mona! Captain Kidd!” A lightning blast downed an eye, only to be resurrected by the other one. Yusuke took aim, firing with his rifle. The damage again was promising initially, but ultimately unhelpful. He gave Ann a quick glance. She threw him healing medicine from Takemi. She had been hit early on by some sort of black paint attack that had severely weakened her, pushing her to the back line. A huge loss - she was their strongest offensive spellcaster. Mona yelped, jumping up in the air to dodge a lunging bite from the ‘mouth’ painting, springing off the top of the frame and straight into the air. He struck his head against one of the pipes that criss-crossed above them. “Yow!” Mona cried, rubbing his head. He blinked, seeing black paint on his paw. He looked up, spotting paint dripping from where he had struck his head. “Guys! I have an idea!” >>> In the pocket realm, Joker found himself backed into a corner, literally. No guns were allowed, but at least his blades and Personas were available. But his opponents now filled the rest of the ring, all facing him down. There was a time where Ren would have just dreamed of something like this. And, it would have  been a good dream. He faced down paintings of Tyson, Ali, Frazier, Marciano. Pacquiao and Mayweather, as well. All of his heroes. He slipped a hard body blow from Tyson, returning a blade through the throat. ‘At least, Madarame can’t make them better than his own cognition of them. And he wasn’t a boxing fan, I can see that much. They’re all strong, but their technique isn’t deceptive. It’s all telegraphed punches…’ But Shadow Madarame just laughed. “Yes, very good, very good! You’re doing well against some real fighters, here! How long can you hold out?!” ‘...He’s stalling. What’s happening up there?!’ >>> “Now, Skull! Do it now!” Mona shouted. Skull wedged his nail bat into the ‘mouth’ painting to block a bite, then kicking it toward the other three paintings of Madarame’s face. He aimed his shotgun above them, at the pipes. The boom heralded an explosion of black paint, drenching the four frames. Madarame’s voice rang out. “What… what is this?!” “Carmen! Agilao!” “Zorro! Garula!” Shadow Madarame screamed in pain as he was set ablaze; his screams reached another pitch as Mona’s attack stoked the flames further. But, the Phantom Thieves weren’t done. Fox tagged in, katana flashing. “Tsuki-kage!” Yusuke ducked a desperate spellcast from one of the eyes, and as he rose drew and cut in a single motion. Then, standing, he followed with a sho-men cut down through the mouth. “Batter up, motherfucker.” With a cocky sneer, Ryuji stepped up. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a spherical object - pulling the pin from the grenade, he batted it into the pile of flaming paintings. The column of flame wiped out the remaining pipes above them. When the smoke cleared, Shadow Madarame was on a knee, panting. He propped himself up with his brush. The Phantom Thieves surrounded him, bringing their weapons to bear. “Bring him back, Madarame!” Panther shouted, brandishing her SMG. “Ha… ha… Did you really think that was it ? This whole world is mine! ” Paint exploded out from Madarame, blasting the team back. When the black mist faded, the team found themselves out numbered. All around them stood Madarame - each of them armed with a brush, the bristles reshaping into thousands of razor sharp flechettes. With a cacophony of sinister laughter, they closed in, the thieves facing them down back to back. They unleashed a hail of bullets, explosives, and spells, but for every copy they burned down, another took its place. Ann kept her cool. Headshot after headshot. But inwardly, a cool head was replaced by cold fear. ‘Ren… Where are you?’ >>> Ren took a hard punch from Mayweather, knocking him to his knees. He rolled, avoiding a finishing blow from Marciano. Every time he took out a pistol, the boxers attacked even more aggressively. ‘He doesn’t want me to fire. Why doesn’t he want me to fire?’ He was knocked down to the canvas. His felt the familiar surface, scratchy fabric, through a rip in his glove. ‘...Canvas!’ “Succubus!” The scantily clothed demon appeared at Ren’s side. ‘Oh, my. My dear little boy’s all beat up. Want me to… kiss it better?’ “Rebellion!” ‘Ah. Boring. Fine. You know where to find me if that pretty kitty of yours leaves you wanting…’ Ren felt the ability work its usual magic, increasing his sense of daring, his sense that no matter what he did, it would work out just fine … “Clotho.” The youngest of the three Sisters of Fate appeared. ‘Trickster. How may I be of service?’ “Mahama.” Ren knelt, touching the canvas. A nova of holy energy burst out around him. The boxers around him screamed and faded, leaving Shadow Madarame on his own. The artist staggered; the spell hadn’t been enough to kill him, but afforded Ren a moment of distraction. He brought his guns to bear, his sudden area attack successful. Bullet Hail tore the pocket realm into shreds of canvas, leaving Ren standing in the void. High above him, in the distance, he could see a spot of golden light. The Madarame in the void with him laughed, the voice disembodied. “And now what, Joker? How will you get out to save your friends? Don’t worry, though. If you can’t find a way, I’ll make sure to leave a scrap or two for you to bury.” Paint splashed into the void again, showing live views of what was happening. Ryuji, falling, bleeding. Yusuke wincing, as a flechette brush cut into his thigh. Mona, frantically casting healing spells while trying not to get stabbed. He would run out of mana at any second. Ann, dodging, lashing with her whip in hand, Carmen behind her. Her SMG in the other, arms akimbo as she desperately fought. He saw his name on her lips, even without the sound. Joker clenched the grips of his guns. He felt that infernal rage, the anger that wanted to consume. Everything he had gained, against all odds, was going to be taken again. His friends. Her . He aimed his guns into the darkness, firing blindly. “Madarame! Show yourself!” There was only laughter. He ran out of bullets and watched, numb, as Ann was cut, stumbling backward. His anger was impotent. Useless. With a snarl, he unsheathed his blades, looking for something, anything to cut, to kill his way out of this. He punched, stabbed into nothingness. His form got sloppy. He stumbled. ‘It can make you lose your form and make you sloppy.’ Ren froze. His other self, Arsene, using the words of his second father. He shut out the mocking laughter, closing his eyes. ‘You’re incomplete… you’ve never had to box with your will , or your feeling … When you get pushed far enough physically, mentally, or emotionally, you have to tap into something past technical skill.’ ‘...In your shoes, I’d be angry, too. … But you can use it.’ He took a breath. A long, slow breath, emptying his mind of everything. Everything but the need to hone his anger, his will into a singular focus. He heard nothing but the beat of his heart and the roar of his own voice. >>> The Phantom Thieves had managed to get themselves into a corner, a slight improvement. They were no longer surrounded, but they had sacrificed their mobility. Ryuji and Yusuke were down, leaning against the wall but still firing. Ann and Mona maintained most of the defense. Their mana was spent; they were burning through healing items. “I… I guess this is it, isn’t it?” Ann said, gritting her teeth. “We can’t give up, Ann-dono! Ren… Ren will…” Mona said, desperately. Madarame cackled. “Oh, please, don’t give up. Let me bring you down, just like dear Yusuke back there. Haha ha… My boy, this brings back memories of your mother.” “My… ...my mother?” “Why, yes. I watched her die . She was always frail. It was such beautiful timing. She had finished Sayuri after a grueling painting session… had a seizure, and laid on the ground in front of me. She reached to me for help…” Madarame giggled. “It was so easy for me to just… turn away. ” “You… ...you let her die.” Yusuke murmured. “And the best part?” He waved a hand. Sayuri, on top of the stairs behind him, shifted - revealing what was under the grey streak of paint across the bottom of the portrait. An infant. “Her last work was out of love for you . That beauty you perceived was a mother’s love… and you couldn’t even see it! So pathetic!” Madarame laughed wildly. Yusuke tried to drag himself to his feet. “You… I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do…” “Oh, you’ll certainly die trying. I’ll make sure of it--” One of the copies of Madarame abruptly screamed, dropping to his knees. The others came to a halt, startled. They spoke at once, an echo of Madarame’s voice. “What?! How?!” The copy tore apart, its golden robes and body falling away into shreds. A black and red blur shot into the air on spectral wings. The familiar report of twin 1911s tore apart the copies with precision shots as Joker briefly hung in the air before landing. The wings disappeared, but as his blades deployed, his armor materialized in the form of gauntlets, bracers, and pauldrons decorated in avian relief. Black metal feathers decorated the elbows and shoulders. With a lively grin, Joker darted into the crowd. In this moment, he was perfect. It wasn’t an unheard of phenomenon. Athletes from time to time pull out monumental performances, moments where they play far above their level of practice. A combination of need, focus, and will. Gunfire and bladework tore through the army of Madarame to the sound of startled screams and shredding canvas. Attempts to cut him down resulted in flechette brushes being stabbed through each other rather than their intended target. Deflecting a stab into another Madarame, Joker kicked off the ground into a high somersault, landing in front of his allies. “J...Joker…?” Ann asked, tentatively. He stood in stance; the motion of his shoulders relaxed and moving with a slight jog as he shifted his weight, standing on his toes. He looked at Ann. “Sorry I’m late, Panther.” Her eyes widened. There was something different. His focus, his little smirk. His… everything. Despite the situation, she averted her eyes, glad the mask hid her blush. “Er… ...Yeah. We’re barely hanging on!” Joker nodded. “High Pixie, Media!” The sprite appeared; the party, groaning, felt some of their wounds close, their pains vanish. The army of clones laughed as they quickly replaced their fellows.  “Fox!” Yusuke blinked; he had been busy staring at Joker’s arm guards, the pauldrons that ended with stylized black metal feathers. “Y-Yes!” “Fox, these are all just paintings. Copies. You’re a prodigy, aren’t you? Can’t you identify the original?” Yusuke blinked. He hadn’t thought to think of them that way. He focused, his keen eye for detail scanning them. ‘...There!’ “Joker! At the front! Goemon - Bufu!” With Yusuke’s last remaining mana, he marked Shadow Madarame with ice. Joker was milliseconds behind the spellcast. Madarame’s eyes widened, unable to move from the spot from a combination of the ice and the pressure of facing down the leader of the Phantom Thieves. With two stabbing jabs to the body and a hard chopping right, Madarame was brought to his knees. The copies shredded into bits of canvas. Ren grabbed the artist by his top knot. The arm guards and pauldrons on his arms vanished; he threw the artist down, at Yusuke’s feet. “Fox… ...Yusuke. I heard everything. It’s your call, as promised.” Yusuke nodded, grimly. He drew his sword. “N...no! I just… I just never wanted to be destitute again… You have to understand, if there was any other way, I would… Yusuke! Please! You’re like a son to me!” “Those… those are the wrong words, you scum !” Yusuke stabbed down into Madarame’s thigh. The Shadow screamed, high and shrill. “Augh! No! The black mask! The black mask made me! He said he would…” “Shut up!” Another stab. Another scream. Ryuji, holding his side, looked in alarm at Ren. “Ren, shouldn’t we…” Ren shook his head. “Just wait.” Madarame continued begging. “P-please! I’ll give you anything! What do you want?!” “...I want my mother back…” Yusuke said, quietly. “You think I was too young to remember. I… I do not remember her smile. Her voice. But I remember her warmth… the color she brought to my life. She’s gone forever. You stole her from me, and she’s gone forever!” He raised his sword again. Ren stepped forward. “Yusuke… If this is what you really want, we won’t stop you. But something I’ve realized is that no matter how angry I get, no matter how much I sacrifice, or destroy, or kill, nothing will go back to the way it was. All I can do is move forward. If killing him will help you move on, then by all means.” Yusuke tensed. “But… if what you really want is your mother back… Then nothing will help. This, I can understand. At least a little.” Ren said, thinking of his own life. His memories of happier times. The sword swung down - and into Yusuke’s scabbard. Fox spoke, his voice brittle. “Let’s go. Before I change my mind.” Mona collected the Treasure. As the Palace started to crumble, Madarame called to Yusuke in a panic. “Pl...please. Help me…” Yusuke paused, looking back over his shoulder. His voice was as cold as his Persona’s magic. “Why don’t you ask your money for help?” >>> The team finished their debrief at Leblanc, filing out. Ren walked them all to the door, with the exception of Mona upstairs. Ann lingered; together they watched Yusuke head toward the station, hands in his pockets. “Is he going to be okay?” Ann wondered. “I can’t say.” Ren said. “I don’t think any of us can…” Ann sighed. She turned, looking at Ren. “...Are you okay?” Ren blinked; he looked at Ann, and smiled. It was a gentle look. One that was significantly less troubled. “...For the first time in awhile, I think I’m pretty sure I will be.” “That’s still a lot of uncertainty.” Ren shrugged. “Best I can do. I’m ninety percent sure that I have a 60 percent chance of being pretty okay.” Ann stifled a small laugh. “I wanted a status update, not a math lesson.” “I’ll be your study partner any time.” He flashed a charming grin at her. Ann almost startled; he seemed… lighter. There was still that sense of burden, of growing up too fast. But he was different, now. Ann stepped a little closer to him. She started adjusting the lapels of his blazer. She continued to play with them, long after they were straightened out. “You need to be careful with that smile, Wildcard. You could give a girl the wrong idea.” “Or the right one.” Ren said. His grin faded back to that soft smile. “Ann. The only future I want to see is one with you in it. I can’t go back.” “...You decided? Just like that?” She asked, still not making eye contact. Still looking at his lapels. “I had a small satori in the other place, I think. A combination of something Coach told me, and what Reiko wrote in that letter. She wrote that we all have to move forward.” “You did pull off something pretty cool, there.” Ren shook his head. “...Not voluntarily. Like I said, it was just a moment.” “How did that happen?” “Madarame showed me you. He showed me you, about to die. It’s weird, you know?” Ren said. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in danger before. But it was this weird mix of being helpless in there, being filled with this useless anger and not being able to get to you. I think I read something about this, once. That enlightenment can either be this massive unveiling, or small flashes you get over a lifetime, and--mmph!” Ann’s hands tightened on his lapels, pulling his face down as she pressed her lips against his. She smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy as the kiss ended. “You were rambling.” “... ..Right.” “You were supposed to kiss me after I asked ‘just like that’.” “...That would have been better.” “Preferably after saying something really cool, like, ‘No, Ann. Just like this…’ “ “I’ll try harder next time.” “Next time?” “...It’s next time, now.” Ren said, tipping her chin up. “Mn…” She closed her eyes, standing on her toes and leaning on him. “Ahem.” They froze. Turned to the right. Sojiro raised his eyebrow. “Can you at least move out of the way of the door?” “...Sorry.” >>> June 2, 20xx “So you’re still not dating yet?!” Shiho exclaimed as she and Ann made their way to school from the station. Shiho moved along, walking with crutches in hand. Ann just smiled, rubbing the back of her neck. Her face felt hot, despite the fact that they had changed to summer uniforms. “After we walked away from the Leblanc, we talked. Reiko’s back in town on the fourth. She wants to talk to both of us, apparently… And Ren wants to clear the air with her before we do anything more.” “ Really . So after we changed to summer uniforms and he spent the entire first half of the day ogling you, you didn’t disappear with him to go to the supposedly off-limits pool? And you didn’t come back to meet me at the end of lunch having to reapply your lip gloss?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Ann said, looking up into the sky. Shiho grinned. She shifted her crutches to her other hand. “You know, those are more effective when you actually use them.” “My surgeon said I don’t need them if I’m not feeling tired. My ACL surgery went well. Weightbearing as tolerated. Then in a couple weeks, I’ll start reconditioning… I can start doing straight line sports, but no pivots or sport-specific training until week twelve. The graft actually has to remodel a bit. It’s really interesting, you…” Shiho trailed off at Ann’s raised eyebrow. “Sorry. It’s just really interesting.” Shiho said, smiling. “I think I’m going to apply to the Sport Science University. The therapists, nurses, and doctors working with athletes are really awesome.” “That’s great, Shiho.” Ann said, smiling. She perked up, spotting Ren speaking with Mishima and Ryuji. She instinctively adjusted her hair a little, glancing at her reflection in a nearby pane of glass. Shiho rolled her eyes. “Come on , blondie. He’d drool over you no matter how you look. Let’s go.” Ryuji spotted them first. He quickly shoved something into his backpack and walked away, innocently. Ann frowned, following him with her eyes. “...So what’s going on, Wildcard?” “Nothing.” Ren coughed. “Let’s go to class.” “Oh, you’re totally hiding something…” >>> June 3th, 20xx RS: Dudes... operation maidwatch was a total bust. RenRen, you get out ok? RA: ...I have no idea what you’re talking about. AT: Maid WHAT? RS: fuck wrong chat >>> June 4, 20xx “Takamaki-san, I disavow any connection or knowledge to ‘Operation Maidwatch’. Clearly, Sakamoto-kun is having some sort of psychotic break.” Ren said, as if speaking to a lawyer. “What are you talking about bro?! You were there .” “Ah. And now the young man is experiencing delusions. How sad.” Ann sighed. “Fine. I’ll drop it. But you owe me, Wildcard.” The team was upstairs in Ren’s attic, gathered around a TV after school. They watched, as Madarame’s news conference began. And, as predicted, the man tearfully confessed everything . The counterfeiting. The plagiarism. The money laundering, and the human trafficking… Yusuke shook his head in disbelief. “I… I can hardly believe it…” Ryuji put a hand on Yusuke’s shoulder. “You gonna be alright, man?” “...I hope so. From here on out, I hope so.” Yusuke said. “I think at least from now, I can start over.” Ann sighed. “Good. Do you have a place to stay? I’d imagine that Madarame’s home is going to be crawling with police, now.” Yusuke blinked. “Oh. Well, I’ve packed a bag.” “Oh, good.” Ann said, nodding. “I’m glad you agree. Shall we go to your home, then, Takamaki-san?” Yusuke asked. “What?!” “I even bought something for your parents…” “...Oh my God.” Ren took off his glasses, putting them down on the table with a sharp - clink- . The team quieted. Ren gave Yusuke a quiet, hard stare. For a solid minute. “...I… think I will try to find other accommodation.” Yusuke mumbled. “Good.” Ren said, smiling. “I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.” “...Oh! Hey, guy’s night? Here?” Ryuji said, grinning. “We can work on our guns.” “Dude, gross.” Ren replied, immediately. “...Wait. What?! I didn’t mean--” Ren laughed. “Fine. Sure. You guys can get started ahead of me, though. Ann and I have to meet Reiko. She wanted to update us on what happened with her dad.” “Ah… Alright, then.” Ryuji said. “We should also celebrate! We won! No legal action!” “Fatty tuna?!” Mona shouted. “We don’t have the funds for otoro , Mona. But how about sukiyaki here, tomorrow?” Ren allowed. “Let’s text details later.” He and Ann stood. “See you guys a little later.” >>> “I still can’t believe she wanted to meet you here. ” Ann said, as they stood outside Shinoda’s. “Yeah… strange, I know.” Ren unlocked the door. “Ren… you know, I’m not sure I should be here. I mean…” “She said I should bring you, Ann.” They sat on a bench together in silence, still in their school uniforms. Ren had thrown on a hoody, though, and Ann was wearing the one she normally had knotted around her waist. Ann looked at Ren occasionally. He had made his choice; he had told her so after the fight against Madarame. ‘The only future I want to see is one with you in it.’ But still, as the minutes passed she felt anxiety curl her stomach into knots. At least, until Ren squeezed her hand. “Hey… you okay?” She leaned against him. “I will be.” The door opened. Reiko walked in, looking around at the gym. She smiled softly at Ren and Ann as they stood, glancing at their hands. Ann started to let go - Ren hung on. Reiko didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. “Ren-kun, Ann-chan. Thank you for indulging me one more time. I wanted to come in person to thank you for your care. My father… he changed. He apologized to me, and wanted me to apologize to you too, Ren-kun. He said he wasn’t there for you when you’ve done nothing but take care of me.” Ren nodded once. “I want… I mean, can I see you box?” Reiko asked. “Before I say anything more.” It was an odd request. Ren frowned, uncertain. The last time he had tried, he had been overwhelmed with his own guilt. Ann looked for a long time at Reiko, and then nodded, as if understanding something. “Ren… you should go get changed.” Ren did so. He came back out in his black sleeveless tee and sweatpants. He started fishing around in his gym bag for his hand wraps, wondering what memories might haunt him this time. “Hands.” He looked up, seeing Ann in front of him. She held the rolled up wrap, smiling reassuringly. Mystified, he held out his right. Ann took his hand. She blushed prettily, winding the cloth around his wrist, between his fingers, across his knuckles. To his surprise, in the exact, precise way he did his own. As if reading his mind, she murmured. “I practiced.” She repeated this with his left. Before letting go, she kissed the palm of his left hand through the fabric, with pressure enough that he could feel through the wraps. It was like a spell; the gesture seemed to quell the last bit of uncertainty in his heart as he turned, heading to the bag. “Ren-kun. Not the heavy bag. Show me your shadow.” Reiko said, standing by the ring. Ren nodded, walking to the ring. He pulled himself up, heading to the center. Ann felt a brief flash of jealousy. She had no idea what Reiko meant, but clearly Ren did. He focused in; similar to the night of their first kiss. This was different, though. He had the faintest little quirk at the corner of his lips. That lightness of motion, the life in his eyes that was there during the fight against Madarame. It was there. And then he exploded into motion. Ann watched in mute awe as he fought . He slipped and parried unseen punches as he returned them. In the quiet of the gym, the only sound was his hands cutting the air, his feet squeaking and sliding on the canvas, and his perfectly timed breathing, adding force and speed to his punches. She caught his eye; Ann realized she had been holding her breath. Ren flashed a grin at her. He upped the pace even more, his hands a blur and his motion flawless. Suddenly, Ann realized - she could see his opponent, too. All the punches he was slipping. All the targets he was striking. His shadow boxing was so precise, so focused, that he had ‘shown her his shadow’. As he came to a stop, she realized - tears were in his eyes, despite his smile. Different from last time. Joy and sadness. Relief. Catharsis. Reiko smiled. She nodded to herself, and looked at Ann. “Ann-chan… can I have a word with him? Alone?” Ann nodded, after a reassuring smile from Ren. She left the gym. Reiko stepped up onto the apron of the ring. Ren sat on the second rope and pushed up the top, letting her in. He was struck for a moment, by the way she looked. She had chosen that blue dress again, from their first date. She seemed to glow in the lights that shone down on the ring. He joined her as she walked to the center. “You know, you’ve changed again. Since the last time I saw you fight, in the Metaverse.” Reiko took his stance, mimicking a few jabs and straights. “There’s joy in your hands again. You looked a little like you from before. When you were my Ren. Not completely, though… Your hands are heavier. Not slower. Just… they’ve lived through more.” “Reiko…” Ren started. “About before. About what you asked me…” “That offer wasn’t for you, Ren-kun.” Reiko turned to him, a small smile on her face. “It was for the you from the past.” Ren nodded, slowly, thinking of what he had said to Yusuke after the fight against Madarame. “I think I understand.” “I wasn’t lying, you know. I never stopped loving that version of you.” Reiko said. “And I think my feelings for you now are there because those pieces of you are still there. But… that’s not love. That’s nostalgia…” “I… I wanted to remember the old you, a little. The you that belonged to me. I wanted that image in my mind… of you at your best, with that little smile, the joy in your fists. Ren-kun... I’m going to study abroad. My father asked me what I wanted. I wanted a fresh start.” “...If that’s what you want, Rei-chan.” Ren said, quietly. “It is.” Reiko said, firmly, turning away from him. “You know, it’s Ann-chan that inspired me. She’s lived in the US, and Europe… She’s really a remarkable person. I’m not surprised you love her the way you do. She… she has the strength to accept you as you are.” Ren was silent, unsure of what to say. “...Ne, Ren-kun. I wanted to tell you something. Something I think you need to hear.” She crossed her arms in front of herself. “That night… there was no other decision you could have made. Not if you were my Ren, the boy I fell for. If you had chosen to walk away from that woman, then… then you wouldn’t have been you.” For some reason, for Ren, he felt like time started again. As if the life that had refused to move since that night could finally take that first tentative step forward. “So… I don’t think we were meant to be together. Not in this life. Not really.” She said, quietly. Her voice was soft, but resonated across the empty ring to him. He could feel her words in his heart. “Do you… do you believe in alternate worlds? Timelines? Where each decision we make leads to a different reality?” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “...I want to believe it.” Reiko said. “When I go overseas, I want to believe that somewhere, there’s a world where my parents were away that night. A world where you would have just stayed over, and we would have made love. Where we would have woken up the next morning…” “And I’d have made us breakfast…” Ren said, softly. Reiko nodded, quiet tears starting to fall from her eyes. “And then I’d wake up, hearing you sing in the kitchen.” “And then I’d shut up, because I hate people hearing me sing.” Ren smiled, his own eyes burning. “But you would have sung for our children?” Reiko asked, her arms crossed as if trying to hold herself together. “All the time! All the time, Rei-chan. We would have gotten married, and our kids, you… You wouldn’t have been able to shut me up.” Ren said. He welcomed the pain in his chest. It was cleansing; purifying. Even grief could be beautiful, he realized. “I… I wouldn’t have ever asked you to. I would have wanted to hear it forever… You, singing to the family you love...” Reiko said, brokenly. Her voice, wavering, fell apart into sobs. “I.. …” She startled, feeling his arms around her. She turned, burying her face into his chest, throwing her arms around him. “Ren-kun… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry…” “Me too, Rei-chan…” She gradually calmed, resting her face against his chest. Listening to his heart beat. She allowed herself to recall all the times in the past, just like this. Just one last time. She looked up at him, smiling through her tears. “Ren… thank you for loving me.” She stood on her toes, kissing his cheek. She smiled, watching the brief look of concern flash across his face. She lightly caressed his cheek. “Don’t worry. Ann will understand. Just… stay here. I’ll send her in. If I see you watching me leave, with those eyes of yours, I might lose my nerve.” She turned, walking to the edge of the ring. She climbed down, and left, resisting the urge to turn around to look at him again. She told herself that she could only move forward. It was a long time before Ann walked back in. She found Ren, sitting quietly on a bench beside the ring. “...Are you okay, Ren?” “I think… I think for the first time in a long time, yes. You?” Ann nodded, smiling. She offered her hand. He took it. >>> They walked in silence from the train station to Ann’s place in Hiroo. Ann held onto his elbow. They hadn’t spoken a word since Shinoda’s - no discussion of what they were to each other, no confessions or the famous ‘will you go out with me?’ used in shoujo mangas. But there was also none of the anxiety. None of the concern. They just… existed in the same space. Reluctantly, Ann let go of his elbow. He murmured a farewell, turning to leave… He felt her catch his wrist. He turned back to her. She studied him in the light of the street lamp, until he gave her a little smile, a questioning glance. She looked down at the ground between them. “...Bachan’s already gone home. And she’s not coming tomorrow.” He didn’t say anything. He just felt a slight tension in her slender fingers; a gentle pull with quiet insistence toward the gate. A thousand reasons to back away went through his mind. They hadn’t even gone on a real date. He wasn’t ready to be in that kind of relationship yet. He had just tonight cleared the air with Reiko. Ryuji and Yusuke were waiting at his place... He looked at her, her shy, downcast eyes. The blush staining her cheeks. The little smile at the corners of her lips. A thousand reasons, and not a single one of them good enough. >>> “R...Ren!” Ann gasped, her back against the door to her room. The door she had just closed, and locked. She cried out as he kissed her neck.  “So fast, you’re…” He paused. She felt him smile, against her skin. Just below her ear, she felt his words more than heard them. “Did you want me to stop…?” She realized she didn’t. She shook her head and gasped again, arching her back, pressing against him as he gently bit her in that way he liked. He claimed her lips, her mouth with a passionate, deep kiss. As she returned it, she was vaguely aware that he was half-carrying, half-guiding her to the soft surface of her bed. She found herself on her back, looking up at him with wide eyes and bated breath. He had taken off his glasses. His grey eyes were dark. ‘...Were his eyelashes always this long?’ Ann thought, looking at him. She closed her eyes as he started kissing her again. Gently, now. Along the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat. Her lips. She realized, as he continued, his hand resting on her flank, that the light kisses were questions. ‘Are you sure? Is this okay?’ She smiled, her eyes still closed. Her heart swelled. Her answer to him was a subtle bowing of her back, a shift of her pelvis against his. Her arms sliding over his neck. So was the passionate press of her lips against his; her tongue seeking entry into his mouth. She let go of him to let him take her top off. Her resolve weakened as Ren looked at her; she knew he found her attractive, that wasn’t the issue. She just didn’t know how she’d react to the expression on his face. Would she recoil? Feel fear as he looked at her, with that kind of intent? Or, worst of all, would she look at Ren, and see the face of the predator that haunted her life only months earlier? “Ann…” She looked up at his voice. Low, gentle. She saw his grey eyes, his beautiful, soft smile. “If you’re afraid, or if this is too much…” She felt her heart flutter and thrill like a little bird as she heard him. He loved her , even if he hadn’t said it yet . He wanted her; she could tell that much from his biological reaction to her, the heat of his groin, the way his hands touched her fair skin. But he’d throw that desire away for her, if she just asked him. It just made her want him more. She kissed him again. And again. And again… His dexterous fingers slid up her back, unhooking her bra in a single motion. She let the undergarment fall away, and then cradled Ren’s head as he started kissing her neck, the upper swell of her breasts. She bit her lip and let out quiet, stifled cries when he started to kiss and suckle on the peaks, her back arching when he trailed a finger up and down her spine. He stopped, for a moment. Ann looked up at Ren, a little wide-eyed. She had gotten the sense that he was experienced, at least, more so than herself; this was now all but fact. Ann felt her resolve crumble again, a little, looking away more out of embarrassment than fear. She averted her eyes, shyly. “Ren… I… sorry. I’ve never…” She blinked at the quiet chuckle. She looked up. Ren smirked at her. “I gathered.” “You don’t have to laugh at me!” She smacked him with a pillow. He only laughed harder, kissing her and cutting off another indignant remark. “ There she is…” She huffed. And then, blushed, as Ren leaned down, kissing her ear before speaking softly to her. “Just leave it to me. Tell me if you get scared.” “Ren… ...ah! Ren!” She cried out, his name on her lips as he started to kiss and caress his way down her body, his fingers slowly dragging her skirt and panties off of her hips. She watched him, as he started to rain those soft, butterfly kisses down her inner thighs, working his way back up, back to her center. She was so lost in the sensation that it was only his breath, hot and soft, feathering against her waiting sex that brought her back to reality. Embarrassment washed over her again. “Ren! You don’t have to… that’s so…— Oh my God!” Her last rational move was grabbing a pillow to muffle her screams. She felt him start to do something with his tongue, his lips, and her that made her toes curl, her back arch. Her other hand, the one that had initially been pushing him away now gripped those soft, raven curls, keeping him captured there as her hips bucked and ground her pelvis against the source of all the overwhelming pleasure. Stars burst behind her eyelids; every muscle in her body tensed up at once, and then simultaneously went lax. He kept gently lapping her up, his arms under her thighs; one hand resting on her flat belly, the other carefully massaging her pert breasts. Her near painful grip on his hair turned into a gentle, appreciative caress as he continued. “Oh… Ren, that’s…” she mumbled. “It’s so bad ...” “Do you want me to stop?” She didn’t have to look at him. She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Don’t be an idiot.” She muttered… and then gasped, as he started to pick up his pace again. She grasped his hand, pulling it away from his chest, kissing his fingers as he brought her quickly to climax again; she bit lightly down on his index finger. “Ah… Ren…” she moaned, her voice catching. “Sorry… I bit you.” She started to kiss and suck on his finger, slowly, lovingly. It seemed… right. She paused, though, opening her eyes when she felt him shift. Ann withdrew his finger, only to watch in mild amusement as he started to tear at his clothes, getting to the same state of undress as her. Apparently, the visual of her doing that had been… stimulating. Her giggles quieted as she looked down his toned, fit body… her hands slid across and down his chest in admiration and no small amount of desire. She wanted him. “Ren… I’m really not scared anymore. So… please …” As if he needed any further encouragement. The sight of her demure eyes, her pretty blush, made him barely dexterous enough to roll the condom on. He positioned himself, and kissing her, he slowly took her. She buried her face in his neck, muffling her little hitched cries and gasps. Each second that went by drew the blonde further into ecstasy… this, like everything else with them, just fit . He paused. A kiss, a whispered word in her ear. A quick, almost frantic nod in reply. Ann muffled her cries again, as he reared back and started moving his hips. She squeezed him between her thighs, panting, gasping. Between breaths, she found herself speaking harsh whispers, alternating between encouragement ( there , right there!) and manic professions of her feelings for him (oh my God , I love you, Ren!). Initially, she had felt disappointment when she had learned Ren had a girlfriend before her. Now, as she directly benefited from his prior experience, she briefly wondered if she should send Reiko a card. She felt the sensations rising to a boiling point; her back arched, her toes curled as she clutched at the sheets. She heard Ren’s sudden intake of breath at her movement, at the change in angle. He became more erratic, harder, faster. They hadn’t even been on their first date. They hadn’t had ‘the talk’ to define what they were. It was impulsive, sudden… It was perfect. >>> Ann watched him sleep beside her, a little smile on her face. She stroked the dark curls of his hair, thinking back to what Reiko had said to her. ‘Ann-chan… It’s not my place to give him to you. He’s not mine to give. But I want to tell you a few things. First, he’s terrible at ball and disc sports. If you make him play, you should laugh at him. It actually makes him feel better than if you try to encourage him. Second, he likes shoujo manga and chick flicks. He’ll deny it, but if you catch him crying, don’t make fun. He’ll sulk for days. Third, he doesn’t celebrate his birthday and won’t tell anyone when it is. But it’s on September 10th, and if you get him something, he’ll really like it. Fourth, he can’t hold alcohol. Not even a little. And… and fifth. The best thing about him… Well, you already described it a bit. He loves. He really, really loves. But that comes from faith. Not faith in any God, or any religion. But it comes from the faith and hope he places in others. In his friends. At one time, in me. And now, in you. He understands better than most that when you love someone, you’re giving someone the ultimate power to hurt you - and having enough faith in them to hope that they won’t.’ Ann snuggled into his arms. She kissed him softly, hearing him murmur her name half-asleep before she closed her own eyes. ‘...And that’s why what happened back home hurt him so much. Why it hurt him so much when his friends disappeared… when I disappeared. And that’s why I believe in your love for him, Ann-chan. Because, despite everything, you brought back his faith.'

"We've seen that you can't be killed. But we've also seen you fail. We don't have to kill you to stop you. And we will stop you." Even in the face of the very evil that they were up against, Ruby does not falter. Because as evil as Salem may be, she is not pure evil incarnate. No, she is fallable too. She may be immortal but they are not trying to kill her. With all the bloodshed, murder is the last thing on their mind. They just need to stop this chain of suffering, to stop this senseless war, to stop her. Ruby would be lying if she said she is not intimidated by Salem's presence. But she is not afraid of her. She would not cower before another coward. Salem hovers toward her, a specter who imposed real threat, unnatural and foreboding at the same time. Eerie bloodshot eyes focus on her with menacing precision. Despite Ruby's daring proclamation, Salem remains unfazed. Ruby should have known better than to provoke Salem. Now she is about to learn that lesson in the most cruel way possible. "Your mother said those words to me." Red like roses. And just like that, Ruby is back on that cliff where red like roses fills her dreams. Except she never dreams of this; she only returns to that place in nightmares. But even she knows better than that and that the truth is much worse. No matter how deep she buries the truth, it always finds her. This is worse than just any nightmare; this is a memory. Ruby had expected Salem to talk back not… not bring up her mom. Why would Salem bring up her mom? Why does she know her? Her mom said those words too? To Salem? "My... mother?" Salem knows her mom? Her mom talked to Salem? But that means… no! No, that could not be true! Every nightmare just discloses. "She was wrong too." Her mom did not return home. Salem has spoken with her mom. Her mom did not return home. Salem said her mom was wrong. Her mom did not return home. Her mom d— It's your blood that's red like roses. She sees her mom on that cliff. The colors are all wrong. She sees her mom look at her with regret. Her frown is wrong. She sees her mom turn her back on her. Everything about this screams wrong. She sees her one last time. She could not see her anymore. Tears blur her eyesight but the vision of the cliff and her mom leaving her behind still stays clear. It hurts to see this. She does not want to see this. She tries to wipe the tears away. It's still there and it still hurts. She tries to open her eyes. Yet still all she sees is the emptiness and sadness that has come to take the place of her mom. She could not look away no matter how hard she tries to. It's all she could see— Until suddenly she could not see anything but her own blinding silver light. It hurts. Everything hurts. Everything hurts ever since her mom left her. Why does it still hurt so bad? Why isn't her mom here to protect her now? Why is she hearing about her mom from Salem of all people? Summer swore that she would stop Salem — and yet, Salem is still here plotting the end of Remnant, she is right here, right now in Atlas — clearly Salem has not been stopped. Summer was wrong just like how she swore that she would stay — But in the end, she left Ruby. Now I'm trapped inside a nightmare every single f'ing day. Even when awake, the nightmare, the memory, never truly goes away. Ruby woke up from another nightmare. As soon as she looked around, she realized that she was in one of the bedrooms of their rented place near Haven Academy. She was here awake in Mistral and not on that faraway cliff from her nightmare. It was one of her older nightmares: the one with the roses and the cliff and how she wished everything had been different. No matter how many times she had dreamt this, it still hurt her every time. But she has learned to live with it in her wake. Nothing could ever take the place of that empty space that her nightmare would remind her of but she tried to anyways. So she reached for the thing that brought her the most comfort— Only to find it missing. And that was how Ruby knew that today would be one of the harder days. She bolted off her bed and threw away the cover. Not here. She dropped down and rummaged through the wardrobe. Not here either. She even emptied out her bag. Still not here. Where was it?! In her manic search, she did not even hear the door open. "Good morning," Weiss said, stepping inside their room. "G… Morning, Weiss," Ruby greeted distractedly on her fourth ransack through the wardrobe, not even sparing a glance at her partner. She heard her partner deliberately clear her throat. "Looking for this?" At what sounded like the answer to her crisis, Ruby turned her head and saw Weiss holding a stack of folded clothes and on top of it was— "My cloak! Oh, how I missed you!" She clutched it to her chest as soon as she snatched it, rose petals drifted around from her short semblance burst. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Where'd you find it?" Weiss had already set aside the rest of the clothes and proceeded to go through the mess Ruby had just made. In between folding a newly wrinkled shirt, she calmly explained, "We had it washed yesterday. We did laundry, remember?" Oh, right… Laundry. Ruby only just remembered that now… Wait, laundry? That was yesterday? So why wasn't she helping with today's folding? She reached out for her scroll… only to confirm that it was past her usual wakeup call. The nightmare had her overslept. "You were still sleeping when the rest of the group decided to get our freshly washed clothes," Weiss continued, already tidying up Ruby's bed. "They are probably still there going through the rest by the way. Yang insisted that I bring this to you first in case you wake up before we finish. And with everyone else's blessing, I excused myself to deliver you this." "Oh…" That was incredibly thoughtful of them. The nightmare may have reopened the hole in her chest but it's the little things— like her friends and family doing her share of chores— which filled it with warmth instead. Softly but with every feeling they brought out from her, she said, "Thank you." "You're welcome." Weiss nodded and proceeded. She did not have to help Ruby clean up her mess which made Ruby all the more grateful to Weiss. Ruby also knew she had another person to thank today as she sent a short but grateful message to her sister. She quickly received a reply; Yang must have been waiting on her scroll to for Ruby's message. Ever the caring sister, Yang asked Ruby if she was okay and Ruby sent what she hoped was a reassuring answer. After that, she took a deep breath. This day may not have had the best of starts but she would not let that ruin the rest of the day. But first, her much deserved comfort. With a practiced flourish, she draped the cloak around her shoulders, letting the worn fabric cover her. She could breathe easier now with the familiar weight returned on her shoulders. She wrapped it tighter around her, cocooning her, and her eyes closed as she let the feeling envelop her. Sometimes if she closed her eyes like this, she could almost mistake this as another time and another place— a happier time and a safer place. If she closed her eyes like this, the nightmare felt so far away and she could almost dream that this was someone else's cloak. "It's gotten pretty worn out." And just like that, the dream was over. Now it was time for Ruby to wake up and finally start her day. "Yeah, well Grimm aren't exactly careful with clothes or with the people wearing them," Ruby joked. With how light her voice came out, it almost seemed like her earlier panic did not even happen. Almost. If Weiss noticed the slight tremble in Ruby's tone, she did not comment. Instead she carried their mundane conversation, "Have you ever thought of replacing it?" Ruby shrugged. "I mean sure, if we have lien to spare. It's not—" Her throat suddenly constricted. She knew where that line of thought was heading and she did not want to reach its end. She would not, could not, finish that sentence. But even though she did not say it out loud, she already heard it loud and clear and haunting in her head. It's not mom. "It's just clothes." She finished weakly; she struggled just to get the words out. She shook herself, trying to shake away the feeling that just would not leave her since the nightmare. Whether it helped or not, she did not know, but she had to believe that it did. Her smile faltered only just a bit but she would take what small victory she could get. Ruby continued, "Some Grimm will probably tear this into pieces one day and I'd feel pretty bad for the seamstress who has to fix it." "Or we could find a really good seamstress. I'm sure there has to be one," Weiss suggested. There was something a bit off about her tone that Ruby could not quite place. "Maybe but then we have to find this legendary seamstress— which sounds like a totally awesome adventure but I don't think we can afford any detours right now." Ruby quickly dismissed the idea with a wave. "Besides, it'll be easier if I just get a new one. It's fine." "Are you sure?" Weiss asked, that same tone was back again except with more intonation now. It was then that Ruby finally recognized what it meant. This was not just about clothes anymore. "…Yeah." Still, Ruby's stance did not waver. "I like having a cloak on but it doesn't have to be this cloak. Like I said, it's just clothes. Either we outgrow them or we outwear them." Which she could not say the same for what the cloak stood for. She could not see herself moving on from that, not anytime soon, or ever. But that did not mean that she could not move forward even with it on her shoulders. And if Ruby could easily move forward then so too did Weiss. "Well if you say so then…" She reached out and felt one of the frayed ends of the cloak between her fingers in scrutiny. "We have got to get you new clothes. No offense but you're practically walking in rags right now." Ruby gasped and pulled back her cloak, dramatically offended. "Like you're one to talk, Miss One Outfit Only!" She pointed a judging finger at her. "Hey! It's not my fault my clothes got lost during the airship crash!" "And you can't blame my clothes for being tired too!" "Clothes don't get 'tired', Ruby. They get torn and worn out, and that's exactly what happened to yours. I tried to be polite about it which is why I did not insult the sorry state of your cloak." "You take that back! My cloak is not sorry, it's amazing!" It was at that moment that Ruby was struck by one of her ingenious ideas. With a burst of petals, Ruby stood in front of Weiss, close enough that she could see the surprise in her partner's blue eyes at the sudden proximity. This only turned into confusion at Ruby's playful smile. Ruby then grabbed fistfuls of her cloak and held the fabric up— Then Ruby wrapped Weiss in the cloak along with her. "And what is this supposed to do?" Weiss asked, incredulous. "I'm showing you how amazing this cloak is!" Ruby cheekily replied and even went so far as to nuzzle her cheek against Weiss's. "I t-think it's warm enough here in Mistral, don't you think?" Weiss stuttered. It sounded like an objection but she made no move to pull away so Ruby simply made herself even more comfortable wrapped around her. Speaking of warm, Ruby noted that Weiss felt especially warm against her skin. "But the comfort, Weiss. Don't deny it." "This would be more comfortable if it wasn't so worn out." The barb would have hit harsher if only Weiss had not subtly shifted closer in Ruby's embrace. "Ssshh, you like it." Ruby's smile could be clearly heard in her voice. "Unfortunately, I've had worse things wrapped around me; Grimm for instance," Weiss said in that same tone she used whenever she rolled her eyes. The unexpected quip had Ruby shaking with giggles. Her laughter was practically contagious, probably because she was still holding Weiss or maybe because joy was meant to be shared like that. But whatever the reason, the two found themselves laughing so hard that they had to hold onto each other for balance. And even long after the laughter died down, they held on still. "We still need to get you a new one," Weiss gently brought up again. "Later. Right now, we've got other priorities." Ruby slowly pulled away, lingering, and maybe just a bit missing the extra warmth. Still, she had things to do and people to catch up with. "What do you say we go and see if we could help the others?" "Must we really?" Weiss drawled. "I'm sure they can handle the chores just fine." Ruby laughed and simply pulled her mildly complaining partner with her. "Come on! The sooner we finish, the sooner we can start the day!" And so, they headed out to where the others were waiting for them. Ruby, ever the leader, led the way, her cloak fluttering behind her. The morning's nightmare had already passed and now she had to conquer the rest of the day. And there were people counting on her. "We're loyal to the people counting on us to save them!" Ruby doesn't understand why they even had to argue about this. They are huntresses; isn't their job to protect and save all of the people? "We are saving who we can." Ruby turns to Ironwood, the man who just declared that he is about to sacrifice thousands of people for the sake of their goal. No, it is not their goal to share anymore. Team RWBY wants to protect everyone while General Ironwood wants to protect Atlas first and foremost— even at the cost of others. "And you're standing in our way." Just when Ruby thinks she trusted Ironwood enough, he has just proven to her that it does not go both ways. Beep. Beep. Ruby's scroll flashes. It cuts through the argument but it does nothing to cut through the tension. Silence follows. For the second time, they are interrupted. And if the first time is any basis then this could be anything but good news. "It's Jaune. We've got a serious problem!" And so does Team RWBY. Ruby could not even focus on whatever Jaune is supposed to report when Mantle is on the verge of being the second Beacon if they don't do anything fast. They have already lost the General as an ally so they will need all the help that they could get. Jaune may have called to report another problem but all Ruby could see is an opportunity. Ironwood stares down at her, every fiber of his being commanded control. Ruby stares back, just as determined and even more daring to rebel against his authority. Just because the General is making a mistake doesn't mean that they would let it happen. Petals burst forth and split. Ruby goes past Ironwood, past his authority, past whatever is left of their trust, and past the point of no return. "Ironwood's declaring martial law and abandoning Mantle! Salem is coming and he's going to use the staff to move Atlas! If we don't stop him, Mantle's going to be destr-" Beep. Her signal is locked. "What? No!" Ruby cries. No, no, no, no, no! This is important! How?! But she already knows how and it digs an even digger pit of betrayal as she turns around to face the culprit. There is no remorse in Ironwood's face no matter how hurt or angry the look that Ruby shoots him with. In the back of Ruby's mind, she remembers Ironwood handing out these scrolls as a gesture of trust; now she realizes that the General only trusts in what he could control. "I'm sorry it's come to this. But until Atlas and all the relics are safe, you are all under arrest." His apology only comes out half sincere and all finality. Then he walks away, his footsteps fall heavy with the weight of his decision. "We won't just let you take us." If Ironwood wants them to just leave Mantle to die without a fight then he just underestimated them as huntresses sworn to protect the people. He pauses, almost looking back. "I know." But he presses forward, unaffected of those who are left behind. The Ace-ops fall in formation behind Ironwood, ready to follow through his given orders no matter who stands against them. Team RWBY may have worked with them as allies before but now they have to fight the Ace-ops as fugitives. The room is in complete divide. Saving Mantle too against saving Atlas only. Team RWBY versus Ace-ops. They have always been on the same side— the side against Salem, the side of good, the side of the people. But now they have to choose which people to save and in doing so, they have chosen sides different from each other's. Why does it have to come to this? However, Ruby understands too, despite how painful the realization is. Everyone in this room has something to fight for. But even when you're supposed to be working together, even if you're fighting for the same love, sometimes you still end up fighting each other.

Jason had always been well aware of the unfortunate consequences that come with their scandalous relationship.   He snorted. Scandalous? Try blasphemous.   For starter, secrecy. It was a given, naturally, seeing as their age gap -of a decade- was somewhat less than ideal. (Well, it wouldn’t be that big of a problem had Damian not been so woefully underage.) Jason wasn’t worried about the potential social shame they’d be dealing with; despite what some people might think, the Wayne name was not only for show. No, what’s more crucial was the family’s reaction to their relationship.   Dickieboy would probably pass out from shock, Timbo most likely would take a neutral stance until he was given no choice but to take a side, Barbs would disapprove as would Cass and Stephanie, Alfred the mediator.   And B... Well, the less said the better.   So the point he's trying to make was that they have to hide a relationship from an entire family of detectives who also have no concept of boundaries and privacy.   Zero, zip, zilch, nada, nothing.   Damian had lined out a lengthy list of rules, tailored to each family members according to their skill sets; contingency plans have their contingency plans and all the jazz. The most general one is leaving no visible marks and making fake alibis to dropping specific false hints to those less emotionally-impaired family members such as Alfred and Barbara. There was even a whole chapter on training body languages to deal with Cass's omniscient body language reading superpower and another chapter on specifics of lies blended with the truth they could use with their body languages.   At this stage, they could probably make good money by publishing a manual on how to hide a relationship. If Damian hadn’t burnt the list.   Back to the main point, secrecy sucked worse than cheese past its expiration date.   Case in point?   The moron who’s trying to flirt with Damian.   Jason knew Damian wouldn't settle for such a person -gangly and awkward, all baby fats and no muscle, not even a lick of fighting capability hidden, blushing madly and not looking him straight in the eyes which were a big minus in Damian's book. Immature and naive. A child. A civilian.   Still.   “Aww!”   Jason wished he had his helmet with him if only to hide his emotion.   “That kid must be in his grade,” said Dick from the driver’s seat, staring shamelessly at the two boys further away from the car. He looked like he was 10 second away from inviting the boy to family dinner.   “You think?” Jason forced out a dry laugh, all the while scanning the boy’s Gotham Middle uniform -clean and neat, an attractive trait to Damian-, his polished expensive shoes -wealthy, not a scholarship student- and his postures -leaning into Damian’s personal bubble, hopelessly infatuated as he fidgeted. Easily taller than Damian. Not that it was a feat.   Jason momentarily regretted not putting any bugs on Damian as the moron leaned in to whisper something that was no doubt stupid.   “Damian has people crushing on him!” Dick cooed. “I’m so proud!”   Jason felt his irritation spiked. The not very surreptitious glances that Damian gathered from the other students didn’t help. “What the hell are you on about?”   “No, it’s just-” Dick’s expressions eased into that incredibly soft look he reserved just for the baby bat. “He comes so far, you know?”   A beat passed.   “Yeah.” Jason looked away, hoping that the word didn’t come out as awkward as he felt.   “He’s even being nice to that boy!” Dick returned to his cooing.   Jason snorted. Nice? Sure, Damian hadn’t rejected the boy harshly and send him bawling yet but nice? Hardly. Please, Damian hadn’t even smiled once.   “Do you think Damian’s gonna give him a chance, Jay?”   His mouth suddenly felt dry. “A chance? Him?”   Dick shrugged as if he didn't just put Jason's mind on overdrive. "Well, you never know -didn't you date too when you're his age?"   A very short-lived relationship, mainly because he found out the girl was trash-talking him behind his back.   “We’re talking about the demon spawn here.”   And that's exactly when Damian decided to grace them with his presence. "Just good things, I hope, for the sake of your well-being," said the boy as he slid into the front passenger seat.   “You sure took your sweet time, brat.”   Jason glanced out. The kid was gone.   “It has only been 4 minutes, Todd.” Damian didn’t bother to turn around, pulling on the seatbelt as Dick started driving. “You need not be so impatient.”   “Hey Little D-”   “Do not call me little, Grayson.”   “-who’s your new friend?”   From the back passenger seat, Jason could almost hear Damian’s brow rose at Dick’s blatant interrogation. “He is hardly a friend but if you must know, his name is Hugon Aubert.”   “Aubert,” mused Dick. “German?”   “An old German name but it appears that Aubert is from France.”   “The family that owns some opera house?”   “Not just some opera house, Grayson, but the Palais Garnier itself.” Jason could almost hear a slight wistfulness in his tone which instantly made him reevaluate this Aubert. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, I suppose.”   “You caught me.” Dick grinned. “He’s your classmate?”   Jason's eye twitched at the thought Damian sharing classes with the infatuated kid for 8 hours daily. Worse, what if they were deskmates?   “No,” good, “Aubert is my partner for a club project.”   What.   “Is there any problem, Todd?” Damian finally turned to look at him.   Oh. Did he say that out loud?   “Nothing, what club are you in again?”   Man, of all the response he could give, why did he pick a particularly stupid one?   Damian raised his eyebrow.   Dick gave him a look in the rearview mirror. "You forgot? Dami's in Music Club."   “Uh- yeah, I was thinking about something else actually,” he said lamely. “What kind of project is it?”   “A song of our choice with accompaniment. It can be done in groups of up to 5 people. Aubert proposed interest to work together as we both are the most musically inclined and I agreed.” Damian turned back to the front.   An acknowledgement. Jason was more bothered about it than he was willing to admit. “He’s any good?”   “Aubert’s an aspiring tenor. He is... acceptable.”   Acceptable. Not ‘passable’ or even just ‘adequate’ but acceptable. For Damian’s standards.   “He sounds great!” Dick claimed as he parked in front of Bat Burger.   As they ate, Dick asked a few more questions about the Aubert kid. Damian humoured him. Jason focused on eating instead. Or tried to.   “What kind of song are you gonna choose?”   “Tt. An opera song, obviously.” Damian licked his lips -Jason stared. “Aubert hinted that he was well-versed in Bizet’s Carmen, especially Habanera but I’ll have to see it for myself. It’s a song more suited to a mezzo-soprano, after all.”   Jason froze. He hadn’t seen the opera but he had read the Carmen novel and he knew for sure that it’s about romance.   This Aubert kid was bolder than he expected.   “Todd, your beverage.”   Jason looked down to see his fist crushing his bat-themed cup. Thankfully, he had drunk half. Not much had spilt.   “What is the matter with you, Todd?”   “Is everything okay, Little Wing?”   Jason gritted out, “Just peachy. Don’t worry your pretty little heads over it.”   Dick looked sceptical but he couldn’t say anything as his phone buzzed. He sighed after he read the message. “I have to go now. You both will be okay, right?”   “Yeah, yeah. Run along, Goldie.”   “Tt.”   Dick gave them a final worried look before walking out. He had an evening shift, a collaboration with GCPD or something, which was also the reason Jason was here.   Babysitting.   Not that Damian needed it. He had undergone a longer period of no supervision at a younger age. Still, Bruce had insisted it when he and Alfred were overseas on Wayne Enterprise business for the week.   “Come, Todd.” Damian didn’t wait, assured that he’d follow.   How annoying.   They didn’t talk much on the short walk to Jason’s current lair, Damian more content to observe the busy street and Jason contemplating.   “So,” he began as he stepped into home sweet home, “the Audrey ki-”   “Aubert.”   “-whatever, you two only talked about the project earlier?”   What, he didn’t confess his undying love to you?   "We merely exchanged contact details," Damian said curtly before going off to change into something comfier.   Jason sat on the couch, feeling a little drained. Was he seriously jealous? Of a kid?   That’s so lame.   Is it really?   What if Damian suddenly decides that the kid is a better option somehow? Someone young and innocent and honest? Someone with mutual interest and the talent to back it up? And don’t forget the Baby Bat’s tone when he talked about the opera house. Someone’s normal and good and not broken, unlike Ja-   A hand on his face broke him out of his thoughts. Even startled, Jason could almost make out his own eyes mirrored in Damian’s brilliant green eyes that always seemed to look straight into his soul. “Baby Bat?”   “Do you have a headache, Todd? Any dizziness? Did you vomit over the past 24 hours?” Damian raised a penlight to his eyes.   “No, no and -” Jason answered automatically, still caught off by surprise. He grabbed Damian’s wrist. “-you think I have a concussion?”   The last part came out a little more hysterical than he liked.   Damian clicked his tongue, a worried frown prominent on his face. “Took you long enough, Todd. You have been acting out of sort, have problems concentrating and remembering, and been in a daze more times than warranted.” He tugged his arms with no success, using way less force to avoid jarring Jason. “Todd, I must assess the damage done to your brain. Let my arm go.”   Jason wanted to laugh. A brain injury was at least logical. “I don’t have a concussion, Damian.”   If anything, Damian’s frown got deeper. Jason wanted to kiss the lines away, smooth it out and watch it replaced by something wanting. “Concussion is not a laughing matter, Todd.”   "Aww, you're worried? For Lil ol' me?"   Damian scowled, “Of course I am!”   “I’m jealous.”   “What.” The scowl didn’t disappear. “Speak clearly.”   Jason pulled him onto his laps, releasing his wrist and encircling his petite waist in one fluid motion, Damian’s back pressed against his chest and Jason’s chin rested onto Damian’s shoulder. “The Aubert kid. I don’t like him.”   Damian didn’t reply, entirely too relaxed in his hold.   “He likes you, you know? Maybe you don’t. God knows how dense you can be sometimes. That’s bad for your detective reputation by the way. I don’t like how he flirted with you, no matter how pathetic it was. I don’t like the fact that he’s gonna be alone with you, practising your piece. I don’t like how he looked at you. I don’t like how he’s your age and that you might choose him over me.”   “You feel insecure. How unexpected.”   Jason chuckled. “I’m still human, Baby Bat.”   “Good.”   Jason blinked once then twice. Damian still blindsided him at times. “Good?”   Damian shifted to face him, smirking. "Yes. Is jealousy not proof of love?"   “I don’t think that’s a good measuring stick.”   "Perhaps." Damian brought his hands to cup Jason's face, eyes smouldering and suddenly Jason was aware of how closely their bodies were pressed together and how Damian was wearing that scandalous booty shorts and one of Jason's old shirt. "Do you really think I will allow another to hold me like this, Beloved?”   Jason reminded himself to breathe as Damian encircled his arms around his necks, pulling him closer. Pulling away was not an option. If Damian was a flame, then he’d gladly set himself on fire.   Damian kissed him, demandingly, insistently, as if he was a dying man and Jason was his only salvation. Jason kissed him back just as hard, the sensation of Damian’s tongue on his sending blood straight down to his groin. By the time they broke apart, both of them are slightly panting. Damian’s plush lips glistened in the light -they looked soft, supple and Jason wanted.   “Do you believe I will permit another to kiss me like that?” Green eyes, fiery and imperious, pinned him in place.   Damian took Jason’s much larger hand, placing it on his narrow chest before dragging it lower and lower. Damian leaned in, voice barely a whisper:   “Can you really see another in your stead, Beloved? Touching me where no others have? Seeing a facet of me hidden from all? Loving me the way you do? Fucking me? Hmm?”   Suddenly, his clothes felt too constraining and his mouth dry. Jason couldn't bear to hear any more of Damian's words. He caught Damian's lips, almost forgetting to not bruise it, and stood up.   Damian knew exactly all the buttons he had to push. His legs automatically wrapping around Jason’s waist and with the leverage, he ground down on Jason.   Jason groaned into the kiss, steadily striding to his bedroom. Breaking the kiss, he placed Damian in the centre of the bed like a framed masterpiece. Damian had his clothes on yet with its crumpled state and his swollen kissed lips and a faint blush to his bronze skin, he looked more debauched than he had the right to be at this stage.   It’s driving Jason insane.   Jason stripped out of his clothes, empowered by the green eyes roaming his body greedily.   Naked, he crawled over to Damian. The youngest Wayne waited patiently, unlike his usual self. Jason took his sweet time undressing him, running worshipful hands over his skin, caressing gently. A searing heat settled in the pit of his stomach as he slid his hands under the oversized shirt -so well-worn that it still smelled like Jason. Slowly, he peeled the shirt off, devouring the sight of Damian’s naked chest.   I don’t deserve you, Jason wanted to say. He traced the many scars marring the sun-kissed skin. The texture was softer and more delicate than what he’d expected from someone as tough as Damian. You’re too good for me.   Because Damian really was. How can someone who had been tortured so much by the hand of the world find it in himself to forgive? Can see the good and still love so devotedly, so wholeheartedly? Even now Jason couldn't see the reason Damian would have chosen him. What did Damian see in him?   “Beloved.” A reverent breath.   A pleasant shiver shot down his spine at the nickname, the way Damian said it -lustful and affectionate-, the way he looked at Jason as if he was the only one he could see. A name meant for Jason’s ears alone. Not anyone else but Jason.   Helplessly, Jason pressed a kiss to Damian's lips, gentle and slow but still as passionate as before. He licked his bottom lips in a wordless request that Damian acquiesced easily. Jason explored every crevice of the boy's mouth, tongues twisting in a lazy dance. He enjoyed every little bit of muffled moans Damian released as he palmed the younger's hardening cock, massaging it in tandem with the swipe of his tongue. He only let up when Damian pushed him away for air, eyes glassy. Jason admired the impossibly red look on his face.   Gorgeous.   Jason pushed him down the bed, pinning him in place. He trailed kisses down Damian’s throat, revelling in the utter trust Damian put in him, the raw vulnerability he’s showing. Damian’s breath and pulse quickened as Jason sucked on his sensitive spot. Jason briefly imagined possessive hickeys around Damian’s throat but decisively squashed the temptation.   Rule #1: No marks on visible places.   He didn’t know if he could ever forgive himself if he let Damian be taken away from him. Didn’t know if he could survive the scenario with his mind intact. Didn’t know if he could put himself back together.   Instead, he bit down on Damian’s shoulder, hard. Jason could feel Damian’s nails digging into his back, making scratches that Jason’d feel later as his tender skin broke and Jason licked the crimson liquid that threatened to flow out. Alternating between sucking hickey and biting, Jason quickly mapped out a pattern on his abdomen, all the while relishing in the sensual noise Damian was making.   Pulling back, he surveyed his handiwork. Damian’s skin twitched under his touch with a visible red hue, thoroughly stimulated. He locked his eyes with Damian’s.   “Don’t dawdle, Beloved.”   Jason chuckled. "And what does Your Highness want from me?"   “Prove to me that I am yours. Take me, fuck me, ruin me.”   Jason swallowed. “As you wish.”   He grabbed the lube from the nightstand. Jason stripped off the shorts Damian had been wearing. He leaned down, grazing Damian’s inner thigh with his teeth and smiled at the trembling Damian emitted. He wanted to leave bite marks there as well but now’s not the time -he had a more important task. He turned Damian over, propping him on his knees and poured generous serving of lube over Damian’s entrance.   He slicked up two fingers and watched them slipped into Damian with surprising ease.   “I stretched myself open last night,” Damian said in a hushed tone, torso twisted sideways to observe Jason. “Just for you.”   In response, Jason’s cock throbbed painfully, leaking precum. He groaned, his voice husky. “How thoughtful of you, Baby Bat.”   He inserted the third finger, then the fourth, down to the knuckles, scissoring and stretching him thoroughly. He prodded around Damian’s walls, seeking out -   “A-ah!”   There.   Jason renewed his vigour as he pumped his fingers in and out, focusing on where the particular sharp high-pitched noises were the loudest. Damian arched his back in pleasure, burying his face into the downy comforter, fingers clenching to ground himself. Jason watched in fascination.   Here was one of the most prideful creatures he'd known, falling apart, unravelling into the most beautiful sight Jason had ever seen. Sight only Jason was allowed to bear witness.   “J-Jason,” Damian choked out, muffled.   “I-” Jason finally slicked his cock and positioned it over Damian’s spread ass. “Tell me you’re mine, Damian.”   “Yours. I’m yours.”   Even thoroughly stretched, it was an effort and a half to fit inside of Damian. Jason slowly pressed himself in, rubbing soothing circles on Damian’s back. When the head of his cock was in, he groaned. It felt good, too good to be true. Heat encapsulated him, squeezing around his cock as if to suck him deeper and it felt so good he could die. Technically, he’d known how tight -how young, really- Damian was, had experienced for himself before, again and again. But.   "You've ruined me, Baby Bat," Jason said laughingly because it's true. Because Jason would always think of Damian even if they broke up, seeking out a trace of him in other's flesh. Because Damian's the best he'd ever have.   He’d almost expected Damian to spit out another ‘Good’ but the boy only groaned as Jason pushed in further. Jason held on to Damian’s hips, hands so obscenely big in comparison, alternating between watching his cock slowly disappeared into Damian’s hole and Damian himself for any sign of pain.   Several slow, agonising seconds later, Jason was fully buried inside Damian. Taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, he forced himself to wait lest he finished too soon. A tight fit, as usual, even staying still felt like an embrace that tried to milk every drop of essence from Jason.   It wasn’t long before Damian started to squirm, wordlessly urging Jason to move. Jason reached down and gently stroked his silky-soft hair to calm him. His hand trailed the boy’s back before resting on his ass. He squeezed the soft mounds, staring at the point where their bodies were connected in enthralment. How can such a tiny hole fit that? A thought he had each time they fucked. His hand snaked around the boy’s naval and pressed down where he could find a bulge. Damian let out a short cry.   God.   “So beautiful,” he praised Damian, voice as strangled as his cock. “You’re so good for me, Baby Bat.”   If Damian had something to reply (probably something along the line of ‘shut up’), he couldn’t get anything out because Jason pulled halfway out only to ram home. He rolled his hips experimentally before deciding to take it slow.   He fucked the ex-assassin with agonising languidness. Each thrust was frustratingly slow and steady, taking several second of back and forth. In. Out. In. Out. He let himself be lost in Damian's tight heat, savouring the moment as he burned the image of Damian's little hole swallowing him down -so eager- into his memories.   Damian started to squirm again, frustrated, pushing back, lifting himself to fuck himself on Jason’s cock.   “Beloved.” Jason wondered how Damian could manage to sound so commanding in his position. “More. Faster. Now.”   Jason tutted. “So demanding.”   He took a firmer grip on Damian’s hips -there will certainly be bruise-, pinning him against the bed and began to increase his speed. He worked up to a steady pace, hips slamming into Damian with force adequate to make a sound lewd enough that Jason wanted to record them. Again and again, he thrust, trying to dig in deeper into Damian.   Jason could hear his continuous grunts beginning to be joined by Damian’s voice. Wild and wanton, Damian made short fervid moans that seemed to grow louder and louder with every thrust. Jason eyed how Damian tried to muffle his sound with the comforter and promptly decided that wouldn’t do at all.   Withdrawing for a moment, he flipped Damian onto his back, a feat easy enough given his petite stature. Damian looked dazed. Jason smiled. “Want to see your face, baby.”   Damian didn't have any opportunity to protest -not that he would- as Jason hitched one of his small legs over his shoulder and snapped his hips forward, sinking to the hilt in a matter of seconds. Jason wasn't sure where to start: the point where Damian was impaled on his cock or the perverse bulge in Damian's stomach or Damian's little cock, leaking from being fingered and fucked.   In the end, he'd chosen none of these; Damian's face was more enrapturing. Flushed from their activity, it had a certain glow Jason had never seen on any of his bed partners before. Bejewelled green eyes wet and bright, pupils were blown wide. His bottom lips were all wet and chewed up -no doubt from trying to bite back his moans- and Jason should be more worried about what to tell Dick if he asked (Damian was not someone with chewing lips habit, after all) but he darted forward instead, tasting and sucking on it.   “Mmm,” Jason drew back, watching Damian’s eyes followed as he licked his lips deliberately. “You taste delicious, Damian.”   Against all odds, Damian turned even redder, a common reaction from him when being complimented which in turn only fuelled Jason’s desire to praise him.   “You’re so good for me, baby.” He rolled his hips, driving his cock deeper into Damian, earning a choked-up gasp. “So hot and tight for me. Such a good boy, aren’t you?”   A whine escaped Damian’s parted mouth and Jason was amused to see how embarrassed he looked just because of the indecent sound.   “You are,” Jason answered his question. “My good boy.”   Damian adopted a determined look. “I am yours.” There was not a trace of doubt in his words, daring Jason to refute. “And you are mine.”   Oh. Oh. Jason’s not the only one insecure here.   “Of course.” Jason chuckled. “I am yours and you are mine.”   Prove to me that I am yours. Take me, fuck me, ruin me.   So he did.   He paid every bit of attention to Damian’s expressions as he fucked into him, cock sliding all the way in. He delighted in the subtle way Damian’s brows furrowed and lips curved, the way his hooded eyes glistened with unshed tears. His hands were an unforgiving grip around Damian’s hips, holding him in place as he slammed into him over and over again. He peppered kisses all over Damian’s face and body, playing with his nipples with each increasingly sweet sound rising from him.   Damian was close. So was Jason.   Jason gave all that he got, reaching to pump Damian’s cock and in the same rhythm thrusting into him as deep as he could until finally -finally Damian tensed up, clenched his eyes shut and made this noise -short and muffled and still managed to shoot a spark through Jason's core- before coming all over his stomach. Jason could have sworn his heart stop in moments like this one, feeling every bit of sensation as Damian clenched and twitched convulsively around his cock. Breathlessly, Jason let himself follow, slamming forward in three more overwhelmingly deep thrusts before coming as well, pouring his seed as deep into Damian's passage as he possibly could.   Jason was mindful not to crush Damian's small body underneath him as he blanketed his body. They stayed pressed together, catching their breaths. Damian stopped him from pulling away when he felt his cock had softened enough, clinging to his neck.   “I’m ruined,” Damian whispered, solemn and harsh and truthful. “So don’t ever think of leaving me.”   "Won't dream of it."  

The next morning, Nasir approached the birdcage with caution. The birds looked on, perfectly placid, and he slowly lowered the opening halfway, guarding the space with his other hand. None tried to escape. More confidently, he reached in and lifted a single bird, wrapping his hand around his wings. It squirmed in his grasp until it reached a more secure position. Nasir closed the cage and, tentatively, stroked the bird’s beak. It snapped at him in a kind of playful way, and he smiled. It was an off-white pigeon, speckled with copper spots—rather pretty for a bird, he thought, maybe once a pet. The problem with birds was that they had no personality. Nasir had been quite fond of the dogs in his former villa. They had been cheerful, affectionate things, quite unaware and uncaring of the fact that they were owned. Once or twice, Levitus had entertained guests from Alexandria, with cats. Those had been less cheerful, perhaps, but with that same independent spirit. Nasir would have preferred cats, dogs, even horses to pigeons and their glassy, stupid eyes. But he had no choice in the matter. So, half-heartedly complimenting the bird on its plumage, he crushed some of the stale bread he had brought with him, and offered it crumbs to eat. He expected a rough peck against his palm, but the bird snatched the food as easily as a light-fingered child. Mildly surprised, Nasir stroked its wings. “Have you a fondness for birds?” Nasir jumped and spilled the breadcrumbs. The bird broke from his hold—he scrambled frantically to catch it again, but the thing was concerned only with its morning meal, now in the dust. Embarrassed, Nasir looked up to find Doctore watching him with a kind smile. “No,” he said after a pause. “I do not. I only wondered who cared for them. It seems as though such a duty would fall to the ludus slave.” “Once, it did.” Doctore stepped forward and held out his hand. The bird hopped onto it, and he returned it to the cage. “The girl Naevia tends them now.” “If they are hers, why does she keep them in the ludus, and not the villa?” “They are not hers. Originally, they belonged to a gladiator called Auctus—or at least, so Barca claimed, although he collected as many and shared the responsibilities.” “Barca,” Nasir repeated. “The name stirs memory; my old dominus favored him in the arena.” “As did many. He was a strong fighter, though he had a curious affinity for delicate creatures. When he earned his freedom, the birds passed to Pietros, and Naevia took up the task after his death.” Something in his words struck Nasir as somehow off, but it took a moment for him to place it. Slowly, he turned and opened the bird cage. He didn’t bother to select a bird this time; he simply scattered the remainder of the bread onto the floor. As he watched them feed, he asked, “Barca and Pietros were lovers?” “Yes.” “And Barca bought his own freedom.” “Yes.” “But not Pietros’, though he had made promise to do so. Cook told me,” he said apologetically after a pause, poking his fingers through the bars of the cage. “It seems… cruel. A blow even more harshly felt than one dealt in combat.” “I have seen men enter this ludus, certain that they will win glory in the arena, only to die the next day before catching sight of its sands. It is a cruel world. The lucky ones yet find happiness in it, however brief.” “As you once did,” Nasir offered quietly. There was no misinterpreting the wistfulness in Doctore’s voice, or the depth of feeling in his gaze. Nasir had known since arriving at the ludus that its Doctore was a man of secrets. He knew not what shape it took, but the presence of one now, in his voice, was unmistakable. “Once.” Doctore began to leave, though he paused in the doorway. “Agron fights in the arena tomorrow. With Fortuna’s aid, he should anticipate glorious victory.” What has that to do with anything? Nasir thought angrily, but he touched fingertips to cheek and found heat that betrayed him. --- The gladiators were not informed of the arena demonstration until later in the evening. Doctore gave Nasir the scroll bearing the names of those to fight; he delivered it in the baths, and was robbed and ignored within seconds. Exhausted after a long day with little sleep, he left to retire to his room. “Wait!” He turned to find Agron approaching him, as expected, with a grin on his face. He looked like a child, alight with excitement, and it took effort to prevent himself from smiling in return. “You deliver results, but do not stay to hear them?” “I have not been to the games in many weeks, and Spartacus has toppled so many champions that I doubt I would recognize the names of any gladiators on the list.” “Save those owned by Batiatus,” Agron reminded him. “Yes.” “As I am.” “Yes.” “Are you not curious to see how I fare?” As he spoke, he swayed closer. Nasir tilted his chin to keep his face in view, and to prevent himself from staring at the expanse of muscle before him. Fresh from the baths, Agron smelled sweet and shone enticingly in the lamplight. A pity, Nasir mused, that dim light was not as flattering to his face as sunlight; his eyes were of uncertain color and the shadows provided little contrast to his soft edges. Yet it was a blessing, too. If he stood so close, looking as attractive as possible, then Nasir would be forced to same something foolish--perhaps as foolish as his ill-advised comment from the previous afternoon--and his ego could not bear to do that again. “You are eager to tell me, so I can exercise enough patience to listen.” Agron’s smile flickered, and he stepped back, contrite. “If my presence is unwanted--” “No.” Unbidden, Nasir reached out and touched Agron’s arm. It was the first time he had initiated contact between them, since that first meeting when he had reached to staunch wound, and that time he had been rebuffed. Some part of him meant to find the fact significant, but really he could only focus on the slight movement, as tired muscles jumped beneath his fingertips. “No,” he repeated. “Apologies. Solemn thoughts weigh mind; I should not have allowed them to dampen spirits.” “Share thoughts and see weight shared,” Agron said. He spoke low, and leaned close to offer a semblance of privacy in the open hallway. Nasir smiled. “Gratitude, but I prefer my own counsel to any other man’s. When do you fight?” Agron leveled a serious look, but after a moment decided to allow deflection. Animation returned to his voice. “Early,” he grimaced. “But not first--Selonius’ men fight Pontius’ in the first two matches, for they are good for nothing else. It will be small games. Batiatus wants to test me and Duro as gladiators in a low-risk match. Rhaskos and Verix, and Spartacus and Varro fight as partners for the first time as well, as test and homage to the twins who founded Rome." Nasir frowned. “Romulus killed Remus; surely that cannot be good luck. Let us hope Fortuna fights at your back.” “I feel no doubt of victory, only impatience for advancement.” “Does Crixus fight?” The smile was wiped from Agron's face. “No, he does not. A fallen champion is of no consequence--why do you waste words on Crixus?” Nasir, taken aback by the venom in his voice, paused before answering. “I only asked for the Medicus' sake,” (and, secretly, Naevia's), “to know whether his wounds needed further care. It occurred to me that an unimportant battle--no, that is not what I meant," he backtracked quickly. "A battle in which Batiatus seeks to test his men seems like the perfect place to test a fallen champion. "That is true," Agron admitted with a shrug. "I do not know why Crixus does not fight, but nor do I care." There was an uncomfortable pause. "I have upset you again. Apologies.” “No, the fault is my own,” he said stiffly. “I hold temper too dear—a trait my poor mother has tried in vain to rob me of for many years.” He forced a smile, and Nasir responded in kind. Doctore’s advice from his very first day, to take care around gladiators who risked lives in the arena, came to mind, and he felt a sudden rush of pity. Lust for glory was an easy emotion to feel and communicate. Fear was not. Nasir’s own troubles seemed distant in comparison to the looming shadow of the arena. He touched Agron again, lightly on the arm, and leaned closer. “If I break a confidence in order to see you happy, will you forget foolish words?” Agron grinned. “And who has confided in you, little man?” he teased. “Call me that again, and you will never know.” At that moment, Varro emerged from the baths. He looked surprised to see them (Nasir’s hand still resting on Agron’s forearm, just above the brand), but only for a second. With a knowing look, he apologized and walked past, giving them privacy again. Nasir glanced down, embarrassed. Agron ducked down to force eye contact again. “Tell me.” Nasir spoke in dramatically lowered voice. “Doctore favors you. He told me that he anticipates victory for you and Duro, and quick advancement after that.” He was exaggerating slightly, of course, but the delight on Agron's face was well worth it. “Then I hope to prove worthy of his favor.” He hesitated. His hand lifted again to cup Nasir's cheek, warm and rough and gentle. The touch stopped his heart. “And of yours.” “You need not worry of that,” Nasir muttered breathlessly, without a care of what he was saying. He was aware of nothing but the hot flow of Agron’s breath against his face. They were standing very close, so close that he could almost feel the trembling of Agron’s eyelashes against his own. The moment lasted for two seconds. Perhaps less. Varro had only been the first of the gladiators to exit the baths. Above the pounding of his own pulse, Nasir could hear loud footsteps and boisterous conversations. Soon, they would no longer be alone. He felt a wild urge to tilt his face and press his lips to Agron’s just for a hard, desperate moment—but the greater part of him objected. Agron’s hand fell to shoulder, and tightened in friendly gesture. “I am to bed. Will you see me off in the morning?” Thrown off balance, Nasir nodded. “If duties do not claim me,” he evaded, although the answer was yes. “Gods’ blessings.” Agron looked disappointed, and Nasir made sure to let his hand drift over the gladiator's arm as he departed, even as he cursed his own foolishness. He closed the door to his room and leaned heavily against it. The cool night breeze played across his skin; he sighed, and approached the window. Only a small path of sky was visible, covered in thick grey clouds. He wasn’t tall enough to press his face to the bars, but he tilted his chin up to catch the delicate flow of wind again. It helped to soothe unquiet mind. What was he doing? Nasir had sworn not to become like Chadara, or the foreign eunuchs who were paraded through the halls of Rome’s rich, or any of the pretty boys and girls who learned at puberty that status was best earned on their backs and their knees. But wasn’t it just as bad to make Pietros’ mistake, and find love in empty words? Agron was a gladiator. His life was consumed by battle, prizes, and eventually, perhaps, freedom; freedom for himself and for his brother. When he had it, he would dash off to his land east of the Rhine, extra prize money in hand, never to set foot again on Roman soil. He would not remain in the ludus for yet more days and weeks, risking life to free a ludus slave who had looked to him for protection. Why would he? Doubtless he had lovers of his own at home, free lovers who were not afraid to speak their minds or look at him or touch him in plain view. With a jolt, Nasir realized that he could even be married. He could have children. In the end, Nasir could be nothing more than a pleasant distraction from the ever-threatening games, entertainment for the entertainment. It was a depressing thought, but he had no reason to assume that it was an inaccurate one. He collapsed on the bed and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. He wanted to forget about Agron. He wanted his eyes to fade from memory, his body to become distant, his laughter to cease echoing in the corners of his mind--or, failing that, to forget that he was a slave to be used and nothing more. Then, suddenly, he had an epiphany: Who the fuck cared? Nasir was a slave just as surely as Agron. His collar was less permanent than a brand, perhaps, but twice as damning, as he had little chance of winning freedom. If, by some miracle, he earned enough favor to be freed by Batiatus, what means would he have of freeing Agron? None. What proof did Agron have that Nasir had no sweethearts in his former villa? None. What rule stated that Nasir must fall more in love with Agron than Agron did with him? None. The thought brought a smile to his face. It was kind of exciting, in a way. He was no longer bound to his dominus’ side. He could take a lover, if he wanted. He could take half a dozen lovers. He could flirt with Agron, laugh with him, fuck or be fucked by him. If he was dissatisfied, he could drop him and move on. (Of course, any lover would be better than Levitus, so he couldn’t imagine failing to be pleased with Agron in bed.) Content with this rationalization, Nasir rolled over on his side and promptly fell asleep. He slept heavy that night, and still awoke before dawn, as was custom. For once, there were gladiators training when he woke up—the six who would be at the arena that day, and those who volunteered as opponents. Agron waved at him when he emerged, and Nasir smiled back. Upon seeing him, Duro winked and bowed. He had no opportunity to speak to Agron that morning, though. He could only watch, and wave farewell, and hope that none of his anxiety showed on his face. Rationalizations be damned. He was fucking in love with Agron. The gladiator could have two dozen children, a wife, seven mistresses and four boys stowed away in Germania, and Nasir would still be in love with him. The gladiator could bleed his last drop on the sands that very day, without ever having taken Nasir in his arms or kissed his lips, and Nasir would be in love with him. The doors to the ludus slammed shut behind Agron, and the smile fell from Nasir’s face.

She’s pretty lost as to why she hopes that Holtzmann hasn’t just bolted in the short time Erin’s left her.  She’s so intrigued by this strange, complicated woman- there’s so much more to the story than Erin first thought. The breath she doesn’t know she’s been holding releases when she sees the puff of blonde hair as she turns the corner, and she fights the urge to smile.  She lets her lip twitch upward, just a little bit, as she sees Holtzmann’s cool breath blow out of her mouth.  She reaches the blonde woman and shoves her hands in her pockets, looking up at Holtzmann through her eyelashes.  God, this situation is awkward, but she just really wants to know what this woman is about.  She’s intriguing in so many ways, and it’s driving Erin crazy. ‘I know a place down the road, the Manchester diner? It’s 24 hours, just up there.’ ‘Yeah, I know it,’ Holtzmann replies quietly, not sure whether to smile or look away.  It’s so much pressure that Holtzmann is all too used to, but she finds she’s not so afraid of this pressure.  Not so much now, anyway. Her head is replaying that moment, again and again and again.  The moment Erin just collapses in front of her, the way she leans out to catch Erin and coaxes her from the panic attack.  She feels sick just thinking about the look on Erin’s face when she realised who it was that helped her, and she closes her eyes to wipe away the memory for the moment, shielded from Erin’s view for a second as she walks just in front of her.  Puffing out a breath and composing herself, Holtzmann falls into step with Erin, who glances up at her. ‘Okay…first of all…what did you do? Before this happened, I mean…before you had to do this?’ Holtzmann glanced to the other side of the street, eyes scanning the stretch of the river visible through the trees.  It calms her a little.  ‘Well, I had a job at a school in the Upper East Side, it was a Catholic school, I was teaching science to 12 year olds who didn’t really care.  It just about paid the bills, I had an apartment just on the other side in East Harlem.  It was all going fine, until one of the parents came in on the parents’ evening and kinda, um, sounded bored but whatever, asked about their kid’s progress. I was honest with them, and told them I was doing my best to help them get better, despite the fact they clearly excelled in English and History.  Like, the kid was reading Harry Potter quicker than I’ve seen a twelve year old read it, but his mom wasn’t happy.  I kept trying, but the kid just couldn’t get his head around it.  Not all of us have the brain for science, you know?  Some people are good at history, geography, some people are good at languages, others are good at science.  It’s the way of the world, right? Anyway, I ran into the kid’s mom in the grocery store a couple weeks after.  She said I hadn’t tried hard enough to get him to like science, and I told her how incredibly good he was at English.  Told her what books he was reading, how impressive it was for his age.  She didn’t register any of it.  She was obviously a doctor, one of those snooty types from the Upper East Side who wanted her kid to follow in her footsteps.  A few days later, got called into the Principal’s office - felt like I was a kid again, pretty, stupid,’ Holtzmann recounts, Erin hanging off her every word. ‘They said a parent had complained about my ability to teach simply because this kid couldn’t do science.  Like, it was no excuse to lay me off, like literally no excuse, but they were making cuts and they had another teacher who could do science as well as math.  So I got fired.  ‘I didn’t have a backup plan.  I didn’t have anywhere to go, I had another… it’s whatever.  I just ended up on the street.  I’ve been bouncing around homeless shelters for the last two years, they’re probably getting kinda sick of me,’ Holtzmann says with a mirthless chuckle.  Erin’s heart drops.  ‘What a horrible woman, I’m sorry she did that to you.  She had no right, it wasn’t your fault the boy didn’t have a mind for science.’ They walk up to the diner entrance, and it’s completely empty apart from one patron and one of the regulars, Benny.  ‘Hey, doll, how you doin’? Been a while since I seen you come in here,’ he says gruffly, but a smile still graces his harsh features.  He’s a little like a gentle giant. ‘Yeah, just grabbing some food with my friend here,’ Erin says, calmer and more convincingly than she thought she could.  It would be so, so weird if she explained the true nature of her and Holtz’s relationship. ‘I’m Benny, girlie.  Good to meet ya,’ he says, genuinely smiling in Holtz’s direction, and she freezes for a second before taking the man’s outstretched hand. ‘Holtzmann, a pleasure,’ she replies smoothly, her words sounding sultry, reminding Erin of the voice she’d heard before during the panic attack.  Soothing, calming. They sit in a booth as Benny sits at the bar and finishes his decaf coffee, reading through a scrappy edition of the NY Times that has been passed around at the diner all day.  The lights are dim, Holtzmann notices, and welcomes it somewhat.  Erin hands Holtzmann a menu, and she takes it gingerly, still obviously uncomfortable with the idea of having somebody pay for her food. Erin doesn’t look at her menu for a moment, to gauge Holtzmann’s reaction to some of the dishes on the laminated paper.  She sees her scan the bottom of the page, avoiding looking at Erin but still unaware of the other woman’s gaze, and that’s when Erin sees her eyes bug out of her skull for a moment.  Erin scans the menu the way Holtzmann did, and looks at where she thinks her eyes went wide. Yeah.  Definitely the chilli cheese fries. ‘What’re you thinking?’ ‘Um, I, I don’t know, to be honest I’m not all that hungry -‘ ‘Try telling that to somebody with a Doctorate and a younger brother with an insatiable appetite.’ ‘You have a Doctorate?’ ‘Don’t try and change the subject.  I saw you eyeing up the chilli cheese fries, don’t you think I’ve memorised this menu top to bottom?’ ‘Well…they look pretty good.’ ‘They’re amazing.  Trust me.  Also, we’re here at the perfect time because you know the food’s all made from scratch, nobody’s been in for a few hours so they make everything new for the graveyard shift.’ ‘Look at you, Miss Regular,’ Holtzmann says, a coy smile playing at her lips.  Erin’s blush only appears for a fleeting moment, but Holtz catches it nonetheless. ‘Anyways…yeah.  If you want chilli cheese fries, get them.’ ‘Erin…’ ‘Do not.  With me, okay? Don’t.  It’s honestly okay.  I’m doing this, so deal with it.’ She swears she sees tears pooling in Holtzmann’s eyes as she watches Erin.  She’d be uncomfortable if she wasn’t magnetised by the blue in those eyes. ‘You ready to order, ladies?’ The guy’s probably shorter than both of them, with a very big grin on his face, too big for 1am. They order, Erin also adding in bottomless sodas for both of them.  Holtz looks like she’s about to protest but her look is shot down by Erin’s death stare. They’re each given a cup for the soda, and Erin swipes Holtzmann’s cup before she can rise from the booth. ‘What would you like?’ ‘Surprise me,’ Holtzmann says, gracing Erin with her widest smile of the night. She hasn’t seen a happier face in a long time when she comes back with a Mountain Dew for her. ‘How did you know?’ ‘I didn’t.  Just…the wacky hair, the gloves.  Plus, my best friend is a scientist too and we’re both practically addicted to the stuff, it’s pretty bad.’ ‘Yeah, so you mentioned the Doctorate back there.  Care to elaborate, Dr. Gilbert?’ ‘Well, I’m a Doctor of Particle Physics at Columbia. Did my undergrad at Princeton, then my postgrad at Columbia before becoming a lecturer. I’m a Professor now, have been for a year, it’s been pretty good.  College students can be a little more perceptive that middle school students,’ Erin quips, and Holtzmann’s shoulders shake a little. ‘That’s incredible Erin, though it doesn’t entirely surprise me that you’re super smart,’ Holtzmann replies, a slight smirk on her face. 'But yeah, I suppose.  I never really wanted to teach anyway, wasn’t exactly my life’s ambition.’ ‘What was?’ ‘I wanted to work for NASA.’ It’s Erin’s turn to let her eyes bug out of her skull. ‘NASA? Wow, that’s ambitious.’ ‘Shouldn’t have been, for me.  You’re not the only Doctor at this table, Erin,’ she says quietly, her head ducked down a little as if trying to quell any arrogance she thinks she’s emitted.  Erin’s nothing but impressed. ‘That’s incredible, Holtzmann.  Where did you graduate from?’ ‘Mmphitff.’ ‘Holtzmann.’ ‘MIT. Undergrad and Doctorate, anyway.  I was at Stanford for my Masters.’ ‘…Oh my God.  MIT?’ Holtzmann just nods sadly.  She remembers it like it was yesterday.  Life seemed so much simpler, even though she was building the most incredible things there. Erin looks a little shellshocked.  She sits for a moment or so and before they know it, their food is being put in front of them and she wouldn’t be surprised if she sees Holtz’s mouth water. She glances up, only to find Holtzmann looking unsure once again, neither of them having started food.  ‘Dig in, go, eat!’ Erin exclaims, a smile on her face as she picks up her own knife and fork. Holtzmann’s stomach groans appreciatively after the first few bites, and she has the decency to look a little embarrassed.  erin just laughs it off, finally composing herself enough to ask a little more about MIT. ‘So I’m guessing you specialise in Engineering then?’ ‘Yeah, robotic type stuff.  Had a stint working the military too, only a junior thing, but I had to quit.’ ‘How come?’ Holtzmann freezes, unable to answer. ‘Sorry.  Too much. I’m sorry,’ Erin says, guilt spreading across her features. ‘No, don’t be. I just… it’s a little… sensitive.  I don’t tell people about it because it gives them the wrong impression, sometimes.’ ‘I understand.  But remember we’ve been through first impressions and they’re not always all they seem, right?’ Holtzmann looks at her fully as she chews, sharing a soft smile.  This woman is literally sent from the man upstairs.  Holtzmann is absolutely convinced of it.  She hasn’t been treated this well since she got her doctorate years ago. They eat in a semi-comfortable silence, until Holtzmann puts her cup down a little too roughly and sets her knife and fork down suddenly. ‘You okay?’ ‘Yeah.  Can I um…do you mind if I get some air, it’s kinda…it’s kind of stuffy in here.’ ‘Not at all, sure.  Just…’ come back. ‘Yeah. Go for it.’ Hotly lets out a shaky breath as she rises from the table, going to the side door and opening it fully, letting it close behind her. She takes the breaths in gulps, setting her hands on her thighs to steady her frame.  This is just too much.  Her life is going to come crashing down even further on her tomorrow, and here she is ignoring it and being bought dinner by her mugging victim.  It’s all so fucked up, and Holtzmann feels like she doesn’t deserve any of it. ‘I knew I recognised you.’ She bolts upright to see Benny smoking a cigarette, leaning up against the wall. ‘Um…I don’t recall meeting you, sir, sorry,’ she says meekly, almost scared of what might come next. ‘You were rooting through the dumpster a couple days back. Looking for food, parts, something, who the hell knows.’ Holtzmann’s eyebrows knit together, almost fearful of the situation.  ‘You homeless?’ She hangs her head in shame as she nods.  She’s fighting tears under the guise of her blonde tufts covering her face, and she hears footsteps coming towards her. ‘That woman in there?  I ain’t ever seen somebody with a better heart.  So whatever you did for her to deserve being her friend?  Musta been pretty damn good, doll.  Don’t fuck her over, be honest with her, you hear me?  She’s under my protection.  And a few other people I imagine, too.’ Holtzmann nods, swiping quickly at the stray tear that escapes and looking Benny straight in the eyes. ‘I promise I won’t.’ ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’ ‘I don’t.’ ‘Good. Here,’ he says, taking Holtzmann’s hand and putting an undisclosed dollar bill in it, and Holtzmann’s eyes go wide with surprise. ‘Just accept it, and don’t spend it on shit you don’t need.  Save that for something you know you need, you hear me?’ She nods once more, another tear leaking from her eye.  Benny smiles kindly, and claps Holtzmann on the shoulder before walking through the diner to the front door, saying goodbye to Erin on his way out.  Holtz enters a moment later, sitting back in the booth.  Don’t fuck her over. Be honest with her. ’I’m about to be in some really deep shit tomorrow.’ Erin looks mildly concerned, but continues to ask anyway. ‘Can I ask why?’ ‘I had a job for a while, just a crappy one at a launderette, and I was using all the money to pay for something every week. That’s why I was going round homeless shelters, I just had to keep paying for the thing, and I lost the job two weeks ago.  Tomorrow, I owe them again and I’m not going to be in a good place,’ she explains, her voice beginning to crack. ‘That’s why I tried to do this, Erin.  I’m not asking for money, I’m not asking for any more help, you’ve already done so much I don’t deserve.  I tried to take your things because I was just so fucking desperate, and I know that doesn’t excuse what I did at all. I didn’t know what else to do.  I don’t want her to see me like this, but now I don’t have a choice.’ Erin looks so worried, and she is - has she just bought dinner from a drug addict? Was she in the mafia? Who knows what Holtz could be needing to pay off. ‘What’s the matter, Holtzmann?  Who can’t you pay?’ Holtz leans back dejectedly into the booth, puffing out a breath and letting tears fall from her eyes properly now, no real emotion showing on her face.  She just looks tired. ‘The person who looks after my baby sister.’

Edd woke the next morning, warm and immobile. Arms held her tight against a body that ran at too high a temperature but only kept her usually too cold body warm. She opened her eyes slowly and discovered that she was pressed up against Kevin Barr, whom was still asleep. And he was shirtless. Her eyes widened slightly in panic until the memories of the day before came to her. She relaxed slightly. She remembered that Kevin was her boyfriend now. A blush touched her cheeks. She smiled to herself slightly. He was definitely not what she would have expected. He had been kind and supportive through her ordeal the day before and had stayed at her request. He had even cuddled with her, even though he hadn’t known at the time what she would say to a relationship. That, however, did not explain why he was shirtless. She managed to wriggle an arm loose, her shoulder burning, and shook him lightly. “Kevin, wake up.” He made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer, pressing his face to her neck. She squeaked slightly. His voice was rough with sleep. “Five more minutes.” She laughed quietly. He had everything but one arm pinned. One of his heavy legs was thrown over hers. Helpless against the depth of his cuddling, she let her arm rest on his shoulder, her hand naturally going to his hair. Gently, she ran her fingers through hair kept short for sports. He squeezed her tighter and hummed. She sighed, exasperated and amused. She had to admit, even though she was sore and still tired, waking up with someone besides Ed cradling her close was nice. Especially when said someone was a perfect male specimen like Kevin and he smelled nice. She was a scientist, not dead. She knew he was attractive. She always had. Their attitudes toward each other had always been the wall between them. She was grateful things had changed. Now, she had another intelligent, emotionally bound person in her life. She had reason to be around him now. Trying again, she shook his shoulder, saying his name again. “Wake up, Kevin. You’re heavy.” She liked the weight of his arm around her waist and the heft of his leg over hers, but she thought that statement might wake him. She was rewarded when he stirred and pulled away slightly, rubbing one eye with his hand. He looked at her with the other. “Morning…” His voice was scratchy from sleep. Edd chuckled. “Good morning, Kevin.” He put his hand back down and concern filled his eyes. “Did you sleep okay? How are you feeling?” His almost immediate concern over her well-being made her feel better. “I slept very well. I am sore and my face sort of hurts. Otherwise, I feel fine.” Gingerly, he tipped her head to the side to look at her cheekbone. A black splotch marred her skin. His jaw tightened, but he swallowed back his rage. “Half of your face is black. I would be concerned if it didn’t hurt.” She sighed. “I thought as much. He punched me pretty hard,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m just glad it didn’t break the bone.” The deep well of rage opened back up in his chest. He made up his mind. If he ever saw those motherfuckers again, murder wasn’t going to be a joke. She poked him in the chest, distracting him from his homicidal thoughts. “Why are you shirtless?” she asked. That brought a slight smile to his face. “I got hot. I’m a hot sleeper. I usually end up without a shirt by morning.” She considered that for a moment. “Understandable. I have to keep the house warmer than most people. I get cold easily.” He chuckled. “I’ll keep you warm any time you want, Edd.” He squeezed her gently to punctuate his statement. His hand slid up her back to knead her neck. She sighed in pleasure and relaxed, her lids falling shut. “That feels lovely.” He liked that sound coming from her mouth. “I know.” He leaned and kissed her forehead. “Rest. You’ve earned it.” “But we have school,” she protested, her eyelids opened back up over her cyan eyes. “They’ll understand, Edd. It happened on school grounds. They’re not going to say anything to you. Sleep. I’ll stay here with you.” He kept up the soft pressure on her neck, trying to knead away her problems. She yawned widely before giving in. She slid her arms around him and snuggled closer to him, pressing her face against his chest. “Okay.” She sounded younger somehow when she was sleepy. With his other hand, he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and resigned himself to getting too hot. Her hands were a little on the cool side as she tucked them against his back. She hummed quietly when he kissed the top of her hair as he continued massaging her neck. She was quickly asleep again. He was glad it hadn’t taken much to convince her to rest. He honestly could have stayed there with her, wrapped up in her bed with her held close, forever because he’d been waiting for this for a while. Now that he was completely awake and she was asleep, he pulled away gently and studied her face as she was at rest. Her eyelashes lay like soot on her high cheekbones, small pieces of her inky hair curved and hugged her jaw and neck. He brushed the hair away from her face and bit the inside of his cheek. He wished she could see what he was seeing right that moment. She had said she was unremarkable in the way she looked, but he would have to disagree. He sighed and kissed her forehead before slowly unwinding his limbs from hers, tucking her back in tightly. Leaving his shirt on the floor where he’d ditched it the night before, he made his way downstairs to see if he could find something to cook for her to wake up to. [Panthera Leo] An hour later, Edd woke up to the sound of someone moving around downstairs and the smell of something baking. She panicked before remembering that Kevin had talked her into staying home from school. She sighed and relaxed back down into her covers briefly, thinking that he was definitely a keeper. She stretched carefully and groaned when her shoulders pulled. Considering a hot shower a good idea, she padded across the room to her bathroom and started the hot water. [Pythonidae] Kevin looked up when he heard water start to run. He smiled. She must have been sore and decided to take advantage of the heat from the water. With care, he pulled the muffins out of the oven and sat them on the counter to cool as he made the tea he found in the cabinet above the coffee pot. He didn’t know if she liked sugar in hers so he just left the water on the stove to keep warm until she came down. Hearing the water turn off upstairs, he pulled some muffins out of the pan and put them on a plate to set on the table. He turned when he heard soft footsteps behind him. She stood in an oversized sweatshirt and shorts with her wet hair up in a towel. Having her hair swept away from her face made the mark stand out all the more. His jaw tightened but he smiled at her. “Morning.” She smiled brightly at him and came closer. “Good morning, Kevin, for the second time. I thought you would have left by now.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Nah. I wanted to make sure you were alright. I made breakfast.” He gestured to the table where the muffins sat with empty tea cups, ready to be used. She glanced over and her eyes lit up. “Oh my.” She looked back over at him. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since someone made me breakfast.” Her cheeks were rosy as she clasped her hands in front of her. His brows came down over his eyes. “You really do live by yourself don’t you?” Edd’s eyes were confused briefly as she looked up at him, but then it dawned on her. She sighed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. My mother is rarely home. She travels a lot, giving seminars on brain neurosurgery.” She hugged herself. “I’ve been mostly alone since my father left when I was ten.” He knew a lot about being alone. His parents had separated when he was eleven and then divorced two years later. Standing away from the counter, he took the three steps separating them and pulled her against him, hugging her. She stiffened, surprised by the affection. She was unaccustomed to it from anyone but Ed. Kevin was still shirtless, but she found she didn’t mind as she slowly relaxed and wrapped her arms around his waist. The comfort was nice in the wake of talking about her parents. She felt his ribs expand with his breathing under her arms. He squeezed her gently before pulling away. “Let’s eat before they get room temperature.” She nodded and relinquished her hold on him, going to sit at the table. He brought the water and poured their mugs full and dropped teabags into them both. “Do you like sugar in yours?” he asked. She nodded and he brought it over to her and let her put in as much as she wanted, taking it back over to the counter when she was done. Being taken care of was new for her. Finally, he sat down next to her and she broke into one of the muffins that he had baked for her, steam rising from it. Little bursts of blue were smattered throughout them. She looked up at him. “Blueberries?” He nodded. “I found them in your fridge. Thought I would put them to use.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. But an eighteen year old boy making muffins from scratch for his girlfriend of less than twenty-four hours was far from normal. And she realized that. Her face flushed and she started picking the bread apart, letting it cool. “Thank you for all of this, Kevin. It’s really not necessary though.” His brows came down over his hazel eyes as he looked up at her. “No one said it was, but I still wanted to do it.” He put some of his own breakfast in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “I didn’t do this to get in your good graces, Edd. I really do want to make sure you’re okay. And it’s completely selfish. I’m doing this for my peace of mind.” She was slightly taken aback by the seriousness of his tone and the severity of his eyes. She backpedaled verbally. “Kevin, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that making me breakfast and things is appreciated, but you really didn’t need to.” Kevin rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. “I know what you meant, Edd. I wanted to. Just leave it at that and enjoy it. I don’t do this for just anyone, alright?” She flushed at being chastised and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She took the opportunity to take a bite of her muffin and her eyes widened. She covered her mouth and spoke. “Kevin these are wonderful.” He chuckled and looked proud of himself. “Yeah. I’ve been cooking for myself since I was fifteen and my mom went onto third shift. I’ve gotten pretty good at simple things. Glad you like them.” She nodded, putting more into her mouth, unashamed that she was enjoying them. She was also unabashed when she reached for another one. He was pleased with her actions. He’d been right when he guessed that she wasn’t one of those girls that starved themselves to keep thin. He ate another himself before getting up to get more tea. Their companionable silence was nice. Most girls felt the need to fill it up with useless chatter. He glanced over as he poured more water into his cup and stopped it mid-stream. Morning sun was coming through the window and glanced off the tops of her shoulders, sheathed in her sweater. She had tucked one of her feet up under her bum and dark damp curls were beginning to fall out of the towel she still had wrapped around her hair. Her thin fingered hands were working on her second muffin still and he watched her in her full spectrum as she ate. He flushed and turned away, cursing at himself in the back of his mind. She was entirely too damn pretty, even with no make-up and a towel around her head and a sweatshirt that would have fit around him twice. He took a deep breath before going to sit down next to her again. “So… About yesterday…” He studied her face as she looked up at him to see what he would say. She looked wary. “Edd, I just… I want you to know that no matter what happens with those…” He bit his tongue and remembered her aversion to cursing. “Jerks. I will support you. You’re not going into this alone.” Her dark brows arched over her eyes. She smiled slightly. “Thank you, Kevin.” She was about to object, but considered his earlier statement about not arguing against good things given out of kindness. “That makes me feel better.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. She just wasn’t accustomed to people caring about her like he so apparently did. Kev relaxed and finished his tea in silence, just watching her. This was definitely never going to get boring for him. [Felis Catus] Kevin had gone home to shower and change before coming back to take Edd out to lunch. He thought she needed a day out. He knew she hadn’t missed many days of school before and never because she was playing hookie. He took her downtown and they ate together, even though she protested when he paid. He had given in when she wanted to drive. She had tolerated the bike the day before because of her shock, but fully aware Edd had said no. When they left the restaurant he had taken her hand and turned down the street instead of going to her car. She was surprised by the open affection and the unexpected turn. But she was beginning to realize that he was going to constantly surprise her. He took her to the little shops and while she was wandering around, he found a basket near the front full of hair pins with little crystal things attached. He found two that matched and smiled at the guy behind the counter before going to tap her on the shoulder. She turned and smiled up at him. “Kevin? Did you need something?” “I need you to hold still for a minute,” he said as he reached up and tugged her hat off gently. She reached up but dropped her hands when he tucked it into his back pocket. “What are you doing?” He chuckled and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Just wait a minute.” He separated the pin with his teeth and moved her bangs over to the side before sliding the pin in above her ear. He put the other in right beside it. “Now I can see your face.” She flushed and reached up to touch them before going over to a mirror and leaning in. The small hummingbirds were the same colour as her eyes. She was about to pull them out when she saw the look on his face when he thought she wasn’t looking. That look sapped her of her will to turn the gift down. She straightened and went over to him, a light flush still lingering on her cheeks. “Thank you, Kevin.” His smile widened. “Welcome, Edd. You shouldn’t hide in your hair. You’re too pretty for that.” Her cheekbones went scarlet and she looked down. She didn’t want to argue with him. He kept telling her that, but she still didn’t believe him. “Thank you.” She touched her cheek when she smiled and it twinged. She looked back up at him and saw the anger in his eyes before he could hide it away. “You alright?” She nodded. “Yes, but I would like to go home, if that’s alright with you. People keep glaring at you. I think they think you’ve done this to me.” His brows came down and he reached for her hand. “I noticed that too. I don’t really care what they think of me, but if you want to go home, we’ll go home.” He cupped her face and rubbed his thumb gently over the slightly swollen mark. She smiled up at him. “Then let’s go. I have some things I need to do today.” He shook his head. “Nope. You’re going to rest. I know your shoulders are still hurting. You haven’t moved your arms much. You’re not going to do anything. I’ll do whatever needs to be done.” She rolled her eyes. “Kevin, I don’t need you to clean my house for me. I can do it.” He gave her a look before lacing their fingers together and leading her to the counter to pay for her pins. The guy gave him a pointed look after seeing Edd’s face. Kevin’s jaw tightened but he just smiled at him before taking his money back and leaving the shop with Edd. [Danaus plexippus] Kevin flopped down onto the couch where Edd was sitting, reading a book. She looked over at him. “I told you that you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged tiredly when she said that. “And I told you I wanted to.” He’d spent two hours doing small chores for her. He pulled her across the couch and tucked her under his arm to her protests. “Kevin, please, I’m reading,” she said, exasperated. He nuzzled her hair. “I see that. Doesn’t mean I can’t cuddle you.” She sighed but relaxed against him. She really didn’t have an argument. She just usually didn’t have anyone around while she was reading. “You really don’t have to be so nice to me.” He rolled his eyes. “Edd, shut up. I want to do the things I have done. Else, I wouldn’t do them.” She huffed at him. “Fine.” She settled down and returned to reading. He put his head on her shoulder and started reading what she was just out of curiosity. What appeared to be a biography of Thomas Edison stared back at him. The longer they sat there, the lower the book sank and she finally yawned. “It seems that I am in need of a nap, but I wish to keep reading.” Kevin chuckled and took the book from her, putting his thumb in it so she wouldn’t lose her place. “Lie down. I’ll read it to you.” She began to protest but couldn’t think of a reason why. She really needed to stop fighting him on everything. She blushed and lied down, putting her cheek on his thigh. His hand rested on her shoulder as he started to read. His voice was a deep baritone as he read over words that would have made others cry with their monotony but he somehow didn’t stop after a few minutes. He just kept reading. Edd listened to him and couldn’t help but get distracted by the rise and fall of his voice. She had never noticed before how very nice it was. Smooth, like he was born for speaking. Eventually, it lulled her until she fell asleep. Some time later, he looked down and smiled when he saw her eyes were closed and her breathing was even. He brushed her hair off of her face before pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it over her. His head kicked back and he closed his eyes, settling in for a nap himself. He wouldn’t wake her for the world.

Hinata gripped the steering wheel in a vice. His muscles were tense with anxiety as he pulled in his driveway. Six men, some of whom he recognized, were standing in his yard. But truthfully, Hinata wasn’t focusing on them. The tangerine’s mind was occupied by the conversation that had just occurred at The Whispering Woods .   ——————————————-earlier in the day—————————————————————   The door to The Whispering Woods chimed as Kenma and Hinata entered the store. Hinata clutched his drink tightly and followed the pudding-head inside. The air inside was comfortably warm and soothed their frosty skin.    Hinata inhaled the scent of spices, old books, and mystery. It was as if the building itself was alive. Energy buzzed and crackled through every inch, every molecule, of the store.    “I’ll be right back, let me just put my coat away and then I’ll take you to the lounge.” Kenma left Hinata in the front of the store. The caffeine had begun to settle in the redheads veins. Kenma hadn’t been gone for more than two minutes but Hinata was already restless.    The redhead couldn’t resist wandering around the intriguing space. There were rows of crystals, plants and other...unidentifiable things...in glass jars, and aged books. Hinata walked down a row of bookshelves. He skimmed his fingers over the spines of books as he examined the wealth of works on the shelves.    Hinata paused as one title caught his eye, A Guide to Spirits, Shadow People, and Ghostly Apparitions. Kenma hadn’t told the redhead what his job was, or what kind of store The Whispering Woods was. With all the books, Hinata assumed it was a small bookstore. But as he continued to peruse the shop, Hinata got the feeling this wasn’t any old normal bookstore.    Curiosity peaked, Hinata pulled the book off the shelf, and placed his drink in its place. It was a thick (with three c’s) book; there was plenty of space for the beverage. It was a dark murky green leather bound book with gold leafing. The book’s elderly spine developed scoliosis, and the musty smell of aged parchment wafted out of the book.    Flipping open the book, Hinata found the table of contents: peeling back the veil, bestiary and humanoids, benevolent, ambivalent, and malevolent, protection, summoning, cleansing , and many more chapters continued to stoke the slowly growing flame of Hinata’s curiosity.    “Shoyo?” Hinata turned at the sound of his name. Kenma was standing at the end of the aisle watching him curiously. The redhead looked back down at the book in his hands.   “Kenma, do you believe in ghosts?” Hinata had been meaning to ask the dip dyed male this question, especially after everything that had been happening lately.    The witch walked with trepidation over to the human tangerine. Kenma wasn’t ready to have this conversation so early in his and Hinata’s relationship. He wasn’t a pack-leader. He didn’t have the authority to tell a non-supernatural person about the supernatural world. But Kenma also couldn’t lie to Hinata.    “Maybe. Why do you ask?” Kenma evaded the question, by answering with a question. Kenma knew it was an infuriating tactic if he continued answering with non-answers, but it was the only way to not tell the truth and also not lie.    Hinata looked up at the witch with large pleading and fearful eyes. The redhead audibly swallowed and the air between them grew heavy with vulnerability and tension. Hinata opened his mouth to speak before he was quickly cut off.    “Kenma dearie! There you are!” Madame Razz waddled down the aisle towards the two. Her large harvest moon colored eyes analyzed the redhead with Kenma. “Hinata Shoyo, good to see you again dearie!” The purple haired witch smiled at the stunned male.   Hinata turned to Kenma questioningly. The redhead's gaze asked, how does she know me? Kenma’s gaze responded with, no idea, just go with it .    “Madame Razz, I was wondering if Shoyo could stay here while I worked my shift? There was an...emergency at his house earlier this morning, and he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” Kenma quietly stepped into the conversation before Madame Razz could say anything else strange.    “Of course dearie! Although, you could just take the day off if you’d like to show our new resident around town? It’s going to be a slow day today, I can feel it.” Hinata had a few questions as to how she just seemed to know things without having any prior knowledge. Hinata was lost in his pondering as Kenma quickly responded.   “No, no that’s okay Madame Razz. I’ll still work my shift.” Kenma didn’t want to put out the elder witch. He respected her too much to take advantage of her generosity.    “Well…alright. If you want to, dearie.” Madame Razz shrugged her shoulders. “Then come on, let Madame Razz show you to a nice spot to read that book of yours.” Hinata was quickly pulled out of his thoughts as a small wrinkled hand gripped his hand, with surprising strength, and pulled him to an unknown destination. Hinata didn’t have enough time to grab his drink, but Kenma was kind enough to grab it for him.    Madame Razz was chatting with Kenma as they walked deeper into the store, but Hinata couldn’t focus on the conversation as a purple butterfly landed on his nose. Hinata went cross eyed trying to look at the delicate creature that seemed intent on staying right where it landed.    Ennoshita was still calming down from his vision. The abnormally active vision had drained most of Ennoshita’s energy. The tired witch nursed a fresh cup of tea and was resting his head against Tanaka’s shoulder. Kinnoshita and Narita were making a fresh pot of tea with magically active ingredients to help rejuvenate their friend.   Tanaka blinked his eyes open as he heard Madame Razz talking with someone. The sleepy wolf heard footsteps approaching the lounge he and Ennoshita were...lounging...in.    The witch resting on his shoulder blinked blearily, trying to stay awake. Madame Razz walked towards them pulling a bundled up redhead behind her. Kenma was walking behind the redhead talking about everything and nothing with the older witch.    “Ah! Ennoshita dearie, are you feeling any better?” Madame Razz forcibly sat the redhead down on the couch opposite Tanaka and Ennoshita. Kenma waved at the two before sitting down next to the carrot top.    “Yes, just tired.” Ennoshita yawned as he sat up straight. Tanaka missed the witch’s soft hair brushing against his cheek. After making sure he wasn’t lying, Madame Razz left to go help the other two witches with the tea.    “Shoyo, this is Ennoshita and Tanaka.” Kenma quietly spoke to the redhead and gestured according to the two. Ennoshita furrowed his brow and studied the small tangerine. I know him. Where do I know him from?   The man, introduced as Ennoshita, looked exhausted to Hinata. A flush of plums crept up his cheeks as if the man had just run a marathon. His dark brown hair, the color of a darkly roasted coffee bean, was tousled and standing up in odd places. Ennoshita’s eyes were a similar shade of swirling nectar, hazelnuts, and stability.   The other man, who Hinata now knew as Tanaka, sat beside Ennoshita. He had a shaved head with a widow's peak. His eyes were a steely blue-gray; the color of a storming wave cresting over a rocky shoreline. Tanaka had an arm protectively wrapped around Ennoshita’s shoulders, supporting his friend's tired body.   “Oh hi, it’s good to meet you two. I’m Hinata Shoyo.” Hinata waved awkwardly. His other hand still clutching the old tome.    “It’s good to meet you too Hinata-kun!” Tanaka animatedly responded. The wolf noticed the odd behavior from the witch besides him, he’d have to ask him about it later. Kenma also studied his strangely quiet colleague. Tanaka quietly cleared his throat and gently nudged Ennoshita.    “Hm? Oh! Yeah, nice to meet you as well.” Ennoshita blinked rapidly as his mind came back to the present. “I’m sorry I spaced, couldn’t sleep last night.” The witch offered as an explanation. It wasn’t a total lie. Ennoshita always found it difficult to sleep leading up to the full moon.    Kenma was reluctant to leave Hinata with the duo. It’s not that he didn’t trust them, he did. There was an odd energy around the two today and Kenma couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for it. Ennoshita’s behavior perplexed Kenma; why is he studying Shoyo so intently?       “I’ll check in on you when I can. My shift is only four hours today, will you be okay for that long?” Kenma worriedly asked.   “Don’t worry Kenma, we’ll be here to keep him company!” Tanaka spoke before Hinata could open his mouth. Kenma was not enthused with Tanaka’s energy.    “Yeah, I’ll be fine Kenma.” Hinata fondly smiled at the worried male. His eyes crinkled cutely and his nose scrunched up bunny-like. Kenma’s anxiety dissipated slightly at the adorableness in front of him.     “Okay Shoyo.” Kenma lightly patted Hinata’s hand before standing. The witch gave one last concerned look at Ennoshita before hurrying away.    The trio sat in silence. Ennoshita began intensely analyzing Hinata again, and this time without Kenma, Hinata felt awkward. Tanaka noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere but before he could say anything to lighten the mood, Madame Razz, Kinnoshita, and Narita walked back in with a new steaming pot of tea, and a tray of cookies and other baked goods.    Kinnoshita and Narita momentarily paused at the appearance of a newcomer.    Hinata looked over at the two males alongside Madame Razz. The shorter male had short light brown hair; the color of sandy beaches at sunset. His large and narrowed grey-taupe colored eyes sparkled with curiosity. He seemed anxious and timid as he subtly hid behind the taller male.    A man with a tall and lean build, and a shaved head similar to Tanaka’s--though this man’s hair was darker and didn’t have a widow’s peak--stood protectively in front of his shyer friend. His wide brown eyes had swirls of black tea, chamomile flowers, and rosewood.   The two helped Madame Razz pour tea and create plates of treats for everyone.    “Here you go dearie.” Madame Razz spoke soothingly, “For your head.” The elder witch poured a cup of tea and handed it to Ennoshita. The aforementioned witch gratefully took the cup and inhaled the aroma of chamomile, ginger, and lemon.    Narita quietly introduced himself and his friend to Hinata as Kinnoshita conversed with Tanaka. The witch due took the armchairs and Madame Razz popped a squat next to Hinata. The chatter subsided and Hinata, once again, felt himself grow tense with the awkward silence.    “Where’d Kenma go?” Madame Razz asked as she searched quizzically for the witch.    “To do work?” Tanaka offered as helpful as he could. He didn’t know how much he could say while in Hinata’s presence.    “Ah…” Madame Razz paused in deliberation. “I wanted to ask him when he was going to do your cleansing ritual.” Silence followed that statement. Hinata was confused as to what a “cleansing” was, but he was even more confused when he realized the statement seemed to be directed at him.   “I’m sorry do you mean me?” Hinata questioned the older woman who merely laughed at his seemingly stupid question.   “Well of course I mean you. Who else could I be talking to?” As Hinata gestured to the other four sitting with them, Madame Razz swatted away his hands in dismissal. “No, they don’t have any ghosts.” The purple woman spoke in a tone that made everything she was saying seem obvious. Everyone turned to the witch with round eyes.   “G-ghosts?” Hinata coughed out his response as he began choking on his drink. “I don’t have any ghosts.” Hinata finally spoke clearly after he nearly coughed up a lung.    “Hm?” Madame Razz hummed softly, deep in thought. “Then why’d you grab that?” The older witch inclined her head at the book resting in Hinata’s lap.    Hinata looked down at the tome resting in his lap and struggled to find an answer.    “It’s because you’ve experienced something strange, something you can’t explain away.” Madame Razz seemed to voice the thoughts going through the redheads mind.    His head began spinning as he thought back on all the strange occurrences that had happened to him in that cabin. Hinata tried to come up with a rational answer, but the evidence his senses provided him became too much to dismiss    Gazing around the store, and thinking back on the word “cleansing” Madame Razz had used, the pieces began falling in place for him. His house was haunted, Kenma was some kind of medium-witch-person, and Hinata needed answers.    Whispering an apology at his rapid departure, Hinata quickly got out of his seat to go find Kenma.    Kenma had just prepared a checklist of things he needed to get done that day when Hinata ran towards him. The redhead had a passionate yet nervous look in his eyes. Determination rolled off his body in waves. Whatever Hinata wanted, Kenma was going to give him. Whether the witch wanted to, or not.   “Do you believe in ghosts?!” Hinata loudly huffed, before quieting down and stating, “You never answered me.” Kenma inhaled sharply. He was once again caught in between a rock and a hard place.    “Y-you never told me why you wanted to—“ Kenma fumbled for the right words to say.    “My house is haunted.” Hinata quickly cut Kenma off. The redhead didn’t feel like receiving half-assed answers anymore. Hinata simultaneously felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and a bowling ball had been lodged in his esophagus. By voicing this thought, Hinata was acknowledging that something abnormal was happening to him. Avoidance is addictive, and if Hinata avoided talking about these strange occurrences, then he would never have to admit that they’re happening. These conflicting feelings brought both relief and more tension to the already tense redhead.    Kenma couldn’t lie to Shoyo. It would be cruel to gaslight his new friend into not believing his own experiences. Kenma could spin this situation and make Hinata question his own senses and perception of reality, but that would be mental torture to the tangerine.    “Yes. I believe in ghosts.” If Kuroo, or any of the other pack-leaders, found out about Kenma spilling supernatural secrets, he would be in big trouble. “Because I’m a witch.” Kenma thought at some point, after getting to know Hinata better, he would tell the carrot-top about the supernatural world; he just figured it would happen later as they became better friends. The “later” Kenma thought about, became that very second.    Hinata didn’t seem surprised at this confession. Kenma figured, Something must’ve tipped him off about me before this conversation.    “So I’m not crazy, ghosts are real.” Hinata reluctantly vocalized his thoughts.   “Not just ghosts. Everything is real.” Kenma affirmed.    The inside of Hinata’s mind turned into a battleground. Logic was fighting against experiences , and truth was playing a pisspoor job at mediator. A small part of Hinata’s mind wanted Kenma to tell him that no, his house was not haunted, everything that happened was all in his head. But that’s not the answer Kenma gave him.    The logical side of Hinata still wasn’t convinced, which prompted Hinata to say, “Prove it.” If Hinata was going to fully, 110%, believe in the supernatural, then he needed evidence. Testimonies of “ believe me bro ” weren’t going to cut it.    Kenma wasn’t surprised with Hinata’s response, but the witch was secretly hoping the redhead would believe him outright.    “Okay.” Kenma rummaged around in his storage closet turned apothecary for smudging and cleansing materials. If Hinata wanted proof, then what better proof was there than cleansing his cabin of spirits.    Kenma dragged Hinata back to the lounge area, where everyone was still sitting and drinking their tea. Kenma had expected at least one of them to come after the flustered redhead, but no one did. Madame Razz must’ve said something to keep the other four calm.    “Madame Razz?” Kenma cautiously grabbed the witch's attention. “Is taking the day off still an option?”    -——————————————-back to the present————————————————————   Kenma felt his phone vibrate in the pocket of his coat. He was still sitting in the car with Hinata. Kenma tried not to focus on the six pairs of eyes staring at them from the front lawn. Hinata didn’t need to try; his gaze was laser focused on the cabin.    I thought you were going to keep Chibi-Chan occupied all day? You’ve barely been gone two hours!?!? What gives???   Something came up. Kenma swiftly replied. This probably wasn’t the response Kuroo was hoping for, but Kenma couldn’t care less at that moment.    Kenma stuffed his phone back into his coat pocket and turned to look at Hinata. The redhead clenched his fists around the steering wheel so tightly Kenma worried it would snap. Kenma nervously placed a hand on Hinata’s forearm. His pressure was light as he delicately thumbed circles on Hinata’s arm. This calming motion must’ve had an effect on the tense male as Hinata loosened his grip and gave Kenma a barely noticeable nod.    “You-you’re not toying with me, are you Kenma?” Hinata’s voice was filled with anxiety and dread. His eyes, which normally glowed like sunshine, were as cold and distant as a cloudy sky.    “No Shoyo, I’m not.” Kenma answered honestly. His words were blunt; there was no proverbial bush to beat around. The two sat in the car for a few seconds longer before Hinata turned to Kenma.   “Okay.” That one word from Hinata was enough to set everything into motion. Both men exited the car and walked up to the cabin. Kenma grabbed Hinata’s wrist and dragged him to the cabin’s side entrance. A few shouts of protest could be heard as the witch and tangerine scurried inside.   “Why didn’t we stop to talk with them?” Hinata questioned once Kenma let go of his wrist. The kitchen door closed with a squeak and a thud as the two men shed their winter gear.    “A few of them are a bunch of loud mouths and I don’t feel like being trapped in a half-hour conversation about the weather.” Kenma might've been exaggerating a bit on how boring the guys could be, but he didn’t really care. “Besides, you can meet them after I get this done.” Kenma’s words brought Hinata out of his confused state and back into work mode.    Kenma set out everything he would need for the cleansing on the kitchen counter: a small bundle of lemongrass, lavender, and rosemary, a glittering piece of black tourmaline, salt, a lighter, an owl's feather, and Kenma’s personal book of shadows.    As Kenma examined everything he brought, he realized that this was it; this was the last possible moment he could back out. This was his last chance to follow the rules and keep his human friend in the dark about the supernatural world.  . . . Fuck the rules. Kenma would reap whatever consequences were awarded to him if it meant he didn’t have to lie to Hinata Shoyo.    “Alright. Let’s do this.” Kenma grabbed his book of shadows and opened to the page on cleansing rituals. This was normally Kinnoshita’s and Narita’s area of specialty but Kenma knew enough to get the job done. As long as Hinata wasn’t haunted by a demon, or something stronger, Kenma could cleanse the cabin just fine.    The witch bunched up the herbs and ignited the lighter. Smoke began to rise from the bundle. Kenma set down the lighter and instead picked up the jewel of tourmaline. The crystal was placed in the path of the smoke and began charging.    Kenma was muttering something under his breath that Hinata couldn’t make out. A small part of Hinata was still waiting for Kenma to start laughing about how he was punking the redhead. That mindset immediately changed when lights began flickering and a deep cold settled in Hinata’s bones.    A small vibrating, turned into a rattling, tuned into a shaking. It was as if an explosion had just gone off a few miles from the cabin. Hinata stumbled into a wall behind him and called out to the witch.   “Kenma?” Hinata’s voice shook with the vibrating cabin.    “Don’t worry I got it!” Kenma stopped his chanting to answer the nervous redhead. Distant shouting and banging on doors could be faintly heard over the shaking. Swirling dark clouds gathered on the ceiling as a small tornado formed in the connected kitchen-living room.    A strong gust of wind peeled off the cyclone and connected with the witch's small body. Kenma was thrown across the room and connected with the wall Hinata was pressed against.   “Kenma!” Hinata yelled as he reached out to his friend's crumpled form.    “Don’t worry...I got it.” This time Kenma’s reply was less convincing.    Huh...seems like it’s something stronger than a ghost. Kenma sardonically mused as he shakily stood up. Once Kenma found his feet he was roughly shoved against the wall. A toned arm at his throat and a scowling reaper glared down at him.   “The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Tsukishima hissed out as all the abnormal turbulence came to a sudden halt. Kenma had never seen Tsukishima angry. Pissed off, annoyed, and bored were common moods and expressions for the reaper, but pure rage was surprising to be seen on the stoic blonde.    “Oh. It’s you.” Kenma”s reply perplexed the blonde, who still hadn’t noticed Hinata. A--kind of sad--war cry was heard before Tsukishima was knocked to the ground. His large hands instinctively grabbed the waist of his attacker.    In a sudden show of bravery, Hinata charged--and successfully tackled--the absurdly tall blonde. The redhead straddled the blonde’s thin waist and firmly planted his hands against the mysterious man's shoulders.    Hinata didn’t know what to do once he had the man on the ground. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. His only goal was to help defend Kenma. Hinata stared down into the man’s eyes and felt his heart jump into his throat. The man had starlight and golden thread for hair, which glowed against the man’s porcelain skin. Golden brown eyes--the color of crystalline amber, solar flares, and arrogance--glared back into his own honey colored orbs.    Tsukishima prided himself on his ability to be rarely taken by surprise. It had been a long, long time since he had been so caught up in his emotions that he didn’t properly survey his surroundings. The consequence of his impulsiveness was to be tackled by a half-pint tangerine. Looking up at his attacker Tsukishima became even more annoyed than he already was when he saw how infuriatingly beautiful the man on top of him was.    The man panted heavily. Orange hair created a glowing halo around the smaller male. Small hands pressed his shoulders into the floor in a feeble attempt at holding him down. The man's eyes shimmered with sunlight and fierce determination. The reaper briefly wondered what the man would look like under him.    “If you wanted to be on top so badly, all you had to do was ask.” Confusion bloomed into embarrassment on Hinata’s face at the realization of the man’s words. Before Hinata could scramble off him, the blonde male disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. Strong arms circled Hinata’s small waist from behind and lifted the tiny redhead off the floor. “But not today.” Soft lips brushed against Hinata’s ear as the man’s breath sent shivers down his spine.    Hinata was roughly tossed towards Kenma who stumbled at the impact. The witch laced his arms protectively around Hinata’s waist and scowled disapprovingly at the lanky reaper.    Hinata was shaking as he clung onto the witch for stability. The adrenaline had begun to wear off as exhausted anxiety settled in his bones.    “The next time you're in pain, instead of throwing a tantrum--like a two year old--just say something!” Kenma scolded the younger male.    “You weren’t hurting him.” A soft voice captured the trio's attention. Hinata looked in the direction the voice emanated from and witnessed a man materialize out of thin air. He had dark moss green hair and light cream petal skin. Fawn freckles danced across his face as constellations danced across the night sky. Ferns grew out of the rolling seafoam of the man’s irises. “You were hurting me.” The man began flickering in and out of existence. A pained expression crossed his face as he crumpled to the ground in a heap.    A wisp of black smoke moved across Hinata’s line of vision. The smoke became corporeal and the tall blonde was besides the green haired man helping stabilize him.   This was all happening too fast for Hinata. He was finally coming to terms with the fact that ghosts, witches, and whatever the hell that blonde is are real. The supernatural is real. With that final thought, Hinata saw the world go black as he fainted.        

Jon - 12:24 am: come over please Tim blinks at his phone, a bit baffled, then looks at the television where he’s been watching only the episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that revolve mostly around Christina. He’s the opposite of busy. Tim - 12:24 am: what’s wrong? Jon - 12:25 am: need you to come Tim - 12:25 am: ?? Jon - 12:26 a.m: please It’s the second please that does it. Well, Tim was going to go anyways, because he is a good friend, but a sincere please from Jon spurs him into action. It likely means that he is actually in some form of distress, so Tim gets up off the couch and grabs his coat. It’s a short tube ride and a five minute walk to Jon’s house, and Tim spends the whole time worrying. He’d tried asking Jon to elaborate, and tried calling, neither of which were successful. The moment he nears Jon’s door he smells it, and he knows. The scent of heat is so thick it makes him sweat. It also makes his stomach twist with worry. Jon hates his heats. He takes his suppressors religiously. That he would miss enough to let it get this bad— Well. Honestly, with how Jon has been lately, this isn’t too much of a surprise, actually. Without even bothering to knock Tim digs the spare key out from its place under the side of the doorframe and lets himself in. Keeping himself from going straight to the bedroom is difficult; the smell of Jon is almost all he can think about and he’s growing hard in his trousers already, feeling almost faint with it. He goes to the cupboard first, though. Fills a glass with water and digs around until he finds an unopened bag of trail mix. He takes a deep breath, which does not have the intended calming effect, because he somehow momentarily forgot that the air is the problem. Then he heads down the hall to Jon’s bedroom. He knocks softly this time as he pushes the door open, and his first breath in almost knocks him on his ass. “Jesus Christ Jon, how did this happen?” He gasps, making his way over to the pile of blankets on the bed that shifts as he speaks. There’s a muffled whine and then a hand appears, pushing away a comforter to reveal the sweat soaked, hazy eyed little omega. “Tim,” Jon pleads, as Tim puts the glass of water on the bedside table and climbs onto the bed. “Tim, need you to knot me, please, please.” “Yeah, love, I‘ve pieced that together.” Tim manages to swallow down the moan that threatens to escape him at Jon’s words. He’s never seen Jon quite this gone before. Fucked out of his mind, sure, a few times, but he’s never seen him in heat. Thankfully Tim has experience in this area, or he’d probably have mounted Jon five minutes ago and been busy fucking him like a dumb puppy. When he presses his hand to Jon’s forehead and slides it down to his cheek Jon presses into it insistently, whimpering. He’s like a furnace, and, this cannot be stressed enough, he smells like the best thing Tim has ever smelled in his life. Before Tim can manage to do anything else Jon has got a hand fisted in his shirt and is tugging, wriggling his way out of the blankets as he tries to pull Tim closer. Tim drags his eyes away from the newly revealed expanse of scarred skin and the curve of Jon’s chest. “Hold on, Jon, hold on. I know for a fact you haven’t consumed any liquids since this started.” Jon sobs like someone has taken something precious from him when Tim resists his tugging. “Jon. Baby. If you drink this whole glass of water I will put my dick in you immediately after, I swear.” Jon squints at him, so he follows it up with “I’ll even start taking my pants off while you do it.” This seems to do the trick, and Jon begrudgingly sits up, the blankets falling off him completely as he crawls over to where the water is. Tim nearly forgets to take his trousers off as he watches, taking in all the little details that he thinks are going to give him some sort of brain damage with how much blood they send in the opposite direction. Jon’s thighs are slick down to his goddamn knees, and the small of his back is shiny with sweat. The fingertips on his right hand are wrinkly, and he absentmindedly wipes that hand on a quilt as he reaches for the cup with the other. The hair at the back of his head is a tangled rats nest and his hips twitch even as he sits back, bringing the glass to his lips and proceeding to chug it unreasonably quickly. Tim remembers then what he’s supposed to be doing and fumbles at his belt, standing up to shuck his trousers and pants all at once and then pull his shirt over his head. Before he can even get fully back onto the bed Jon is pawing at him, one hand at his hip and the other wrapping around his wrist to tug him back, both hot like brands. “How long, Jon?” Tim asks as he goes willingly, pushing the blankets around to make a more reasonably sized divot for them. “Hm?” Jon hums distractedly as he flops back, hooking his legs around Tim’s hips as Tim settles between them. “How long have you been in heat, and not— fuck, be gentle— told anyone, Jon? Obediently Jon loosens his grip on Tim’s cock but does not slow in guiding it to his entrance. Tim hisses as the head of it slides against Jon’s absolutely sopping cunt, and he fumbles somewhat as he shoves a hand under Jon to lift him into a better position, grabbing a pillow and pushing it underneath his hips. “Oh. Two days.” Jon says, like he’s commenting on the goddamn weather, and giving him leverage was a mistake because he arches his back and takes Tim halfway with a pleased little grunt. Overwhelmed, Tim can’t help himself, his hips snap and he shoves the rest of the way in, fast enough that it’s almost one smooth synchronized motion, and when he’s fully hilted Jon lets out a breathless contented sound. “Two— ah, two days? You fucking—“ “Shut up, Tim, fuck me.” Jon pants, as if that's not what Tim is already goddamn doing, his self control finally slipping as he sets off at a quick, steady pace, letting his instincts take over his body for him so he can attempt to use his brain for other things. As gently as he can manage he brushes the hair out of Jon’s face— or rather wipes it off his face, as it’s somewhat glued to his forehead. Jon blinks at him for a moment and gives him a bleary little smile before another thrust knocks his head back, his mouth falling open as he whimpers and cries. The relief is palpable, his whole body loose with it as he relishes in finally being properly full. He’s gorgeous— but Tim isn’t too out of his head that he doesn’t still feel the concern tight in his chest, mixing with a bit of guilt. The thought of Jon holed up here for two days, helpless and in pain… well. Tim knows it isn’t his fault that Jon took so long to ask for help— knows he’s lucky Jon asked at all. But he still feels a bit horrid. More for his own comfort than anything else he lets himself drop down a bit, covering Jon’s body with his own and pressing his face into Jon’s neck. Jon writhes and digs his nails into Tim’s side, sliding a hand up to the back of his neck where he leaves scratches that will probably scab. The pain is sweet, though, and it throbs through Tim as he breathes in deep, letting Jon’s scent dizzy him. Jon is unbelievably hot and slick around him; he always is but it’s different this time, with the pheromones driving Tim near-mad; it feels better than it ever has, feels right and perfect. Tempting fate, Tim presses open mouthed kisses under Jon’s jaw and down his neck, licking over the spot on his shoulder that makes him jerk and whine. “Do it, do it,” Jon pants, and it’s hard to say no to the noisy wriggling little thing under his tongue but Tim shakes his head, pressing a parting kiss there and then moving up to Jon’s face, reaching up to hold his chin still. Jon opens his mouth wantingly, breath hot as Tim leans close. “I’m not— ah, going to mark you, Jon. You’re not mine.” He says firmly, and Jon closes his mouth just to pout. And Martin would be very cross with me, Tim doesn’t say, just kisses Jon’s pouting lips soundly. They kiss for a long time, until Tim has to pull back because he’s itching to go harder, and Jon feels it too, the moment his mouth is free he’s begging for it, gasping out his words between hitching little breaths. “Fuck me, breed me, come on, harder, please, ah, ah, hh—“ With a growl Tim hooks his hands under Jon’s thighs and pushes them up, pinning his knees almost near his head as Tim bears down, properly pounding him into the mattress now. Jon sobs and thrashes and wraps his arms around Tim’s neck in a death grip, and everything is a hot-slick-breathless blur for a long long moment, and then Tim is coming, his knot swelling as Jon jerks and arches and comes too, squeezing around it in impossibly tight pulses that make Tim whimper himself, gritting his teeth as he resists the urge to sink them into Jon. As they catch their breath Jon goes limp, his arms slipping down to lay over Tim’s waist as Tim lets his legs go and melts on top of him, shoving his face into the crook of his neck again. It’s a long few minutes before either of them speak, Tim brought back to reality by Jon shifting slightly, the movement tugging at where they are joined. “Feel better?” He mumbles, petting at Jon’s side, the closest thing he could reach. “Yes.” Jon responds meekly, and Tim picks up his head to look at him, then. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was the middle of the night and I shouldn’t just ask—“ he begins to say, but Tim rolls his eyes and then his hips, thrusting shallowly and knocking a sharp gasp from Jon, effectively cutting him off. “The only thing you should be sorry about is not calling me earlier, you idiot. How did this happen? Why on earth did you wait two days?” Jon flushes, avoiding his eyes. “I just got distracted and forgot to get my refill, and then it was too late and I didn’t want… I just wanted to wait it out, I thought I could…” “Thought you could just push through it? With nothing but your fucking hands? Jesus, Jon, you know some people fucking die from doing that, right?” Looking even more embarrassed, Jon squirms, which only serves to send a shock of pleasure through both of them, and Tim dips his head as he moans softly. “I’m sorry,” Jon says again, and Tim sighs heavily. “Well, I’m here now. We’ll get you a shower when you’re not stuck on my dick okay?” Another tiny orgasm rolls over Jon and he squeezes his eyes shut, shivering with it. Tim hisses as his cock jerks, Jon’s body milking more out of him. “Ah— “ Jon takes a deep breath, and then relaxes. “Yeah. Yes, thank you.” “Good.” Tim lays back down, gently maneuvering them into a sustainable position. “I’ve got you. Never wait to ask again, okay?” Jon’s hand curls in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Okay.” There’s another long moment of silence before Jon starts squirming again. Tim knows the question is coming but he waits for it anyways, if only for the comedic effect of being right. “Can we go again in the shower?” Jon finally asks, and Tim huffs out a laugh. “We can go again as many times as you need. Lucky for you, I’ve got no plans for the weekend.” When he gets Jon in the shower the omega is already so needy again that Tim has to get him off three times before he can get him to stay still long enough to wash his hair. And while Tim would never complain about eating Jon out while he whines and writhes against the shower wall, the endeavor is a little taxing. “Okay, it’s your turn to do all the work,” he says after he wraps Jon in a towel and starts gathering the nastiest of the blankets off the bed to throw into the wash with his clothes. “Ride me while I order takeaway? Can you keep quiet?” Jon nods, wide eyed and eager. He’s so heat addled (and probably sleep deprived) that he’s acting all sweet and agreeable and stupid. Glimpses of his normal snippy self shine through every so often, usually after he comes, and Tim is starting to look forward to those moments, odd as that is. It’s weird to see him so amenable. Admittedly he is awfully cute like this. Tim wonders if he’ll be extra ornery next week to make up for it. “Use the towel to dry yourself off, Jon.” He orders gently before he leaves the room, and Jon blinks at him before his mouth opens in a silent oh as he realizes and obeys. Christ, this must be how Martin feels all the time at work, Tim thinks to himself as he gives Jon a patient smile and heads off to the washer. When he returns Jon is back in his slightly-less-dirty nest, sprawled out with three fingers stuffed inside his cunt and two in his mouth. He looks like he’s fallen asleep this way, somehow, and Tim almost believes it until he sits down on the bed and Jon cracks open one eye, taking his hand away from his face. “Did you call already?” “Not yet. Hungry?” “Unfortunately,” Jon grumbles. “Want you inside me again.” “Uh huh. Gimme a second.” Tim digs for his phone as Jon sits up and paws at him, pushing him back onto the bed when he finds it. “Quiet,” Tim reminds Jon as he punches in the number for the closest place that delivers, hoping they send some beta who won’t mind the very obvious situation. Jon just nods distractedly, already crawling on top of Tim and rubbing against him. Tim bites his lip hard as Jon sinks down on him with a light sigh, listening to the phone ring. He watches Jon anxiously as someone picks up with a cheery greeting, but to his relief Jon seems to be trying his best, breath coming in short little puffs as he rolls his hips and bites his lip. Not a single incriminating sound escapes Jon as Tim hurriedly places the order, struggling somewhat himself as Jon fucks himself at a more than leisurely pace. When he hangs up he groans with relief, reaching out to pull Jon down to him. “Good job, Jon, you did so good,” he murmurs as Jon smiles lazily against his mouth and then presses a brief kiss there. “How long?” “Not long enough that we can get stuck again. I’ll pull out.” “No!” Jon protests, tensing like he can keep Tim inside him. Tim pets at his back. “You need to eat.” “I’m not hungry!” “You just admitted that you were!!” “Just… just go get it and come back, and keep going.” Jon says decisively and Tim closes his eyes with mock exasperation. “Oh so now I have to last until the food gets here, huh?” “Remember when you let me tie you up and you didn’t come for three hours?” “Okay, shut it, you. Go back to being incoherent.” Jon just grins and rolls his hips, sliding his hands up Tim’s arms to wrap around his wrists. He presses a smacking kiss to Tim’s cheekbone. “Make me.” “It was supposed to be your turn,” Tim complains exaggeratedly as he arches up and then smoothly flips Jon onto his back, knocking a gorgeous moan from him. Jon doesn’t even bother responding, too busy making noise as Tim gives it to him. He’ll probably fully cry when Tim inevitably slows down and pulls out, but it seems he’s completely forgotten about that for now. The food comes blessedly fast, and Jon does cry, just a little, and clings to Tim like a limpet when he returns. He’s gotten nippy all of a sudden, too, covering Tim with suckling little kisses and bites wherever he can reach. Tim pays him back in kind, adding to the growing spread of love bites that are starting to form a very clear circle around the base of Jon’s neck. Jon comes all of a sudden, startling Tim a little with his violent shudder. “Not so fast,” Tim murmurs into his ear, getting close himself, and slides his hand between them. Jon’s little cock is swollen and slick, and Jon yelps and twists, oversensitive as Tim rolls it between his fingers. “Again for me, please.” Jon sobs and pleads, and Tim comes hard, his knot swelling again and when Jon’s next orgasm is forced out of him the pressure has Tim’s vision going white. “Good boy, good job,” he gasps as Jon lets out another weak sob, curling around Tim as best he can. Gently Tim rolls them to the side and hugs Jon to his chest, petting down the length of his back. “You’re gonna have to settle for my fist after dinner, I’m not gonna be able to go again for a little while.” He says gently. Jon makes a sad little sound. “I suppose that will have to do,” he says and Tim laughs. “I’ll keep you full, don’t worry.” “Yuck,” Jon mumbles into Tim’s chest. “How dare you. One moment you’re begging me to put pups in you, now I’m yucky?” “Hush.” Jon grumbles and Tim’s heart thuds, unable to keep from smiling at Jon’s lapse back into typical bitch mode. “Also don’t fall asleep, you have to eat,” Tim adds, and Jon groans. “You sound like Martin.” He says, and Tim snickers. “You wish I was Martin,” he teases, and Jon smacks his arm. “What on earth gave you that idea?” He demands, tilting his head to glare. “The fact that you’re mad about it means I’m right.” Cheeks flushed, Jon sputters. “I can’t believe you would bring this up now when I can’t— when I’m— no, you know what, I can just ignore you, I’m going to ignore you.” He says haughtily, and shoves his face back into Tim’s chest. “Leave me alone,” comes out comically muffled and Tim lets himself laugh, even if the shaking of his body sends near-painful shocks of sharp pleasure through them both. “This isn’t over, you know.” He says. Jon pointedly says nothing. When they are able to sit up and eat, Jon devours his curry like he’s starving. Tim watches him with mild judgement until Jon catches him and scowls. “I ate yesterday, I’ll have you know.” He says petulantly. “Uh huh. What did you have?” “Cheese crackers!” Jon proclaims, like that’s actually an accomplishment. Which, to be fair, it kind of is, in his situation. Tim narrows his eyes and smiles, shaking his head and then saying nothing, going back to his own food as Jon sputters. After he’s finished Jon begs for another orgasm, which Tim promptly gives him; flipping him on his front and pinning him, fucking him quick and sloppy on three fingers until he comes with a cry. As expected— or rather hoped— he finally falls asleep after this, curling up right where he is. Tim has enough time to clean up after dinner, switch over the wash, gather another load of blankets, and take another quick shower. Then, after pausing to watch Jon’s eyelashes move against his cheeks as he breathes softly and evenly, he realizes his eyelids are heavy too. Curling around Jon for sleep is something Tim always treasures. Tonight he’s still too-warm, and Tim expects he’ll be awake and rutting against Tim again in far less than a reasonable number of hours, but he’ll take what he can get. It’s going to be a long weekend.

Chapter 1 Stiles I didn't live in a house. I didn't live in a flat. I didn't live in what people would think was a normal living environment. No. I lived in the SAA. The Supernatural Adoption Agency. This particular place held around twenty children, aged from three to eighteen, that were all part of the supernatural world. Whether that be werewolf or vampire or whatever you could think of. They didn't have humans and, yet, here I was. My dad managed to get me to this place before he died, neither of us knowing that the people here didn't take to kindly to humans. But the woman who ran the place kept me anyway, using me as more of a servant than anything else. I was to clean and file and do anything she told me. I wasn't to complain. I wasn't to talk to anyone. She let the other kids do whatever to me. Letting them leave bruises and marks on my skin, sending me to the hospital more than once... And she even joined in at times, especially when drunk. That was why I usually stayed at Scott's house. I could get away with it, so long as I spent one night and day at the Agency to 'take care of my duties'. Melissa didn't mind me staying round and more than once she tried to persuade me to live with her... But I couldn't place that burden on her, no matter how much I thought of her and Scott as family, and vice versa. I just couldn't be held responsible for doing that...especially when she had enough to deal with already. But they helped me whenever they could, and that was more than I could ask for. It was the start of the summer – Friday, June 1st 2012 – and I was sitting in a diner with Scott. It was the same diner we came to every day after school, but it soon went from after school to just every weekday, so we could still come during the holidays. And for good reason too. I mean, for one, the food was awesome! Best curly fries ever! But also because there was this guy that always seemed to come in a short time after Scott and I had sat down. Derek Hale, one of two Alpha werewolves in Beacon Hills – the other being his mother. Derek had killed a rogue Alpha werewolf after said rogue tried to kill his mother, father, sisters and uncle. Derek still lived with his old Pack, but he know had a Pack of his own – or so I heard. The only reason I knew was because he and Scott had told me... Not that I knew that Scott knew Derek Hale until we first saw Derek in the diner. Now it had sort of become routine: arrive at the diner, sit down, wait for Derek, order food when Derek got there, talk for a while, and go back to Scott's – unless I had to go back to the Agency. Though the Derek part had only started in the past two weeks. Today, luckily, was a day I was spending at Scott's. Anyway, Scott and I were sitting at our usual table in the diner, waiting for Derek to show up. "Dude, no Harris until September!" I grinned, throwing my fists into the air as I slumped back into my seat. "Miracles do happen! Why did they even let him become a teacher?" "Too many theories, man. Too many theories." Scott laughed, shaking his head a little. Scott and Melissa – as well as the school – were the only ones that knew about my...living conditions. I didn't want people to know and thankfully no one else did. Only the people that needed to know, knew... Not that the school knew exactly what happened behind the four walls of the Agency. It was all too suddenly that my best friend stopped his laughter. "Why won't you just come live with us, man?" Scott asked, his expression tightening as he spotted the newest bruise on my forearm. "You need to leave." I sighed, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. It was something that we always fought over. I would never tell Scott my reasoning, however. He would just tell me I was being ridiculous, that I was as more family than friend. But I just couldn't tell him. And I couldn't say yes, either. As I sat there, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation, neither Scott nor I heard the door to the diner open. Which said a lot about Scott's wolfy super powers! "Bro, you need to get out of there." Scott insisted, desperately." "Get out of where?" a bored, gruff voice asked as I opened my mouth. Man, Derek has great timing. I turned to face the Alpha wolf as he sat on the seat next to Scott, seeing the usual raised eyebrow in place on his face. "Chemistry!" I lied, before Scott could say anything, even though I knew my friend would never tell a soul about the Agency. "It doesn't provide a...uh... It doesn't provide much of a, um, challenge." By the look on his face, I could see that he didn't believe me. Well, it was the truth that Chemistry didn't provide much of a challenge for me, but Derek knew it was the reasoning behind mine and Scott's talk. But the Alpha said nothing. He just left the conversation alone. The three of us sat in the diner for a while, talking about anything. Of course, many of the topics I came up with were quickly turned down by Derek. Sometimes, I wondered if the guy hated me... But that thought usually disappeared when Derek would actually defend me when any student from Beacon Hills High would walk by and make any comment or gesture towards me. It was confusing getting all these mixed signals. But Derek seemed to be filled to the brim with them. As always, Derek left just two hours after sitting down with us, saying little less that a goodbye. Scott and I only stayed around for another five minutes or so before we left to. "Do you have to go back there tomorrow? Can't you just stay with us?" Scott asked, almost pleading. "I don't like seeing my best friend hurt." "I told you, I can't." I sighed. "Now, please, let it go." With a look, Scott shut his mouth before he could say anything more. Shaking his head like he did earlier. No matter how dumb people thought my friend was, he could be far from it. "Come on, we can watch Batman." Scott grinned, trying to take both of our minds off of what was waiting for me tomorrow. But no matter how hard either of us tried, I knew it wouldn't help...

Chapter Twenty-Four Bleeding Night Dark lashes fluttered and the hazy world returned to light. The spiralling abyss of unconsciousness that was the source of the Half-demon’s dizziness subsided, and he winced, clutching the back of his aching skull as he struggled to sit up. Glancing around, Inuyasha regarded his prison with trepidation. Wide golden eyes studied the cold, smooth stone of his surroundings. He struggled to regain his breath as he stared at the four eloquently decorated walls - his only source of light a barred window beyond even his reach. Those dark walls though dressed with elegant crimson sashes felt like they were closing in, crushing the air from his lungs. He hated being shut in – hated being trapped anywhere, especially a place where he couldn’t feel the grass beneath his feet, where he couldn’t smell, nor see any sign of life. Struggling to his feet, Inuyasha approached the only door, but one look told him there was no way of getting through it – there wasn’t a handle on the inside. Suddenly a sharp pain tore through him, and his hand crashed against the locked door to steady him, whilst the other ghosted over his stomach to soothe the unborn creature within.What’s the matter? He thought, his breath escaping his lungs in frenzied pants. What’s happening? The panic rose up in him and he instinctually reached for Tetsusaiga. Golden eyes widened as his fingers clenched around thin air. A distorted recollection flashed across his vision, a memory of surging forwards, the blade soaring through the air – missing. It had struck the nearby tree; losing its transformation… it was still there, his Father’s sword was still in that tree! Suddenly his source of support shifted. The once-locked door flew open and Inuyasha stumbled backwards. The grand futon knocked his knees out from under him so that he fell backwards onto it, catching him before he tumbled to the ground. The door closed behind the shadowed figure that ushered into the room. Inuyasha eyed the exit carefully, as if plotting his escape, though a slow pass of Hikireimaru’s hand offered him an answer to his unasked question – he would never get to the door before the Demon stopped him, not with his current ability of speed in any case. An almost cruel smile graced those dauntingly handsome features of the Demon as he approached. Stopping at the end of the bed, he dropped fluidly onto his knees and knelt over a startled Inuyasha's body. The Half-demon flinched, claws darting forwards. “Did you have pleasant dreams, Little one?” Hikireimaru cooed, ensnaring those wrists roughly mid-strike. Inuyasha snarled in return. “You bastard… When I get my hands on you I’ll-” “-What do you think of your chambers, Inuyasha?” Receiving only a feral growl in response, Hikireimaru continued. “I had them prepared especially to meet your…requirements…” The Half-demon offered a final scream before throwing the Demon off his body and scrambled backwards up the bed. “You mean YOUR requirements!” He cried in indignation. “Whatever you’ve done to this stinkin’ hole it’s still a prison! You can trap me here, you can do whatever you want but I’m not lying down like a dutiful bitch and letting you do what you want with me!” Darting forwards off the bed, Inuyasha’s fist collided with the side of Hikireimaru’s jaw, knocking him back down the moment he had reached his feet. Pain ripped through his body and his limbs screamed in agony as his flexed claws tore into the Demon’s flesh, tearing bloody ribbons from that exposed chest. That smile failed to fall from Hikireimaru’s lips, a small, dark laugh emanating from him as he prised those claws from his body. Inuyasha’s eyes widened. “Silly little Half-demon,” Hikireimaru murmured, leaning forward to risk a swift lick over Inuyasha’s cheek - making him growl furiously. The Demon gestured to the lingering four gashes across his own face, where Inuyasha had scratched him earlier before passing into unconsciousness. “I have learnt not to permit pain to affect my body as it does yours. I note your posture is pained, would you care to lie down?” “Like hell I do!” Inuyasha sneered, struggling to break free though failing. “I’d rather stand until I drop than lie on my back for you!” That sick smile was there again, and it made him swallow nervously. “Splendid,” Hikireimaru murmured, “That was the exact answer I was hoping for...” Those spiteful bonds were all that now held him in his standing position, with his head hanging limply, silver tresses falling into his eyes and hiding the grimace that betrayed his body’s agony. That sharp pain still pressed with cruel pressure into his back and stomach. That telltale soreness (that he only had this unborn pup to blame) enflamed his usual body parts, with his last use of Takara’s serum long having worn off. And he wanted to cry out - he wanted to scream, but he was kept from even that small comfort by his diminishing pride. Hikireimaru’s claws tore through the silk of his clothing like a knife through butter, and the shreds hung limply from his form. Inuyasha’s body tensed under that stare, trying to recoil into itself. He winced in mortification as those fingertips traced each one of the blemishes marking his stretched skin, he couldn’t meet this creature’s eyes as it looked upon him. He didn’t want to look at anything… “So many insecurities…” the Demon murmured, “so many doubts as to why Lord Sesshomaru, or anyone else for that matter, would desire this far from immaculate flesh.” Inuyasha cringed at that, thighs tensing, rubbing together slightly in an attempt to alleviate the growing pressure in his bladder - the pup’s constant moves to escape Hikireimaru’s touch not helping any. His teeth ground together in determination. Those touches moved thoughtfully over his stomach a few more times, before they skittered over a rosy nub and Inuyasha hissed lowly in pain. “I see this place in sensitive to touch,” Hikireimaru murmured, dipping his head to regard the enflamed flesh. “Such a pretty red colour…” The Half-demon tipped his head back, fangs gnashing together to withhold a whimper at the stinging pain. Sesshomaru had learned of the places that were sore rather swiftly, and (admittedly) had made sure Takara had some of that salve on hand for whenever their miracle effects faded away. Now, however, there was no Sesshomaru, or Takara, or relief of the pain… There was no escape… Inuyasha’s fingers enclosed around the chain suspended from somewhere above, lifting his body from the ground before kicking Hikireimaru roughly in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. The Half-demon’s body slumped against their bonds in breathless exhaustion from such a comparably small manoeuvre, and ge struggled to turn his attention to anything but how badly he needed to ‘go’… “It is senseless to fight, Inuyasha,” The Dark-haired-demon murmured, approaching him once more. “You don’t have the strength to resist, not in your current condition in any case…” Pressing himself to Inuyasha’s body he dragged a claw down his stomach, drawing a tear of blood from the shallow wound. Inuyasha growled menacingly. “If you hurt this pup I’ll fucking kill you…” Hikireimaru smirked. His finger smoothed the blood onto it before he brought it to his mouth, licking the crimson fluid from it leisurely. Inuyasha knew if something happened to him, or the pup, to the point where either were in danger, then his demon would take over, and whilst that would get him out of this situation, without the Tetsusaiga or Kagome to call him back, he didn’t know if he’d ever return… “So long as you behave I will not hurt it,” Hikireimaru purred, “I have no desire to kill either of you. I told you, I will take care of you both…” He watched with mild amusement as Inuyasha struggled to kick him away again. Deftly seizing the struggling limbs he forced them down once more, the claw of his thumb carelessly biting into the inner-thigh. Inuyasha cried out that time, and Hikireimaru's smirk broadened as he dropped to his knees fluidly. “How is locking me up and torturing me looking after me?!” The Half-demon screamed again as Hikireimaru’s tongue danced along the wound on his thigh, lapping up the blood before pressing the tip of his tongue into it spitefully. “Bastard!” Drawing back from the wound but not from his position, Hikireimaru stared up at him with forebodingly lustful eyes. “This prison, (just like the chains) is merely in place until you have given me sufficient chance to show you…” “Show me?” Inuyasha growled out, frowning in confusion. That cruel smile lined the Demon's lips once more. “I told you, you have had the taster for life with Lord Sesshomaru, now is your chance to see what I can offer.” He paused for a moment, considering the Half-demon’s twitching legs thoughtfully (though thankfully, Inuyasha didn’t think he’d realised the reason as to the tension in his limbs). “And as for the ‘torture’, it is merely a sexual preference. There are many who share it…” Inuyasha sneered. “Well I ain’t one of them!” the Half-demon shouted, the action making Hikireimaru smile devilishly. “How will you know if you never try it?” With those words long fingers encircled his limp member, stroking it roughly. “I will teach this body how to derive pleasure from pain…” Inuyasha tried not to move, tried to focus on something on the opposite wall - anything to distract him from the imminent explosion of his bladder. A thumb pressed into the slit, the teasing fingers on sore flesh only increasing his dire need. He tipped his head back, trying to ignore the rough jerks that were sending his hips into irrepressible spasms. It was then that his thighs tensed together swiftly, and a look of realisation dawned on the Demon’s features, followed swiftly by that wicked upturned smile. “I see,” Hikireimaru growled softly, continuing his movements whilst the other hand stole onto that swollen stomach, provoking the pup into movement. “STOP IT!!!” “You need to go?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Inuyasha’s hands gripped the chains once more in an attempt to struggle free, his legs trying to knock Hikireimaru away, though failing. “Tell me, Inuyasha… Did you never ask Lord Sesshomaru about the Half-demons?” Though Inuyasha didn’t respond, he knew that he had heard. “I slaughter your kind – and not without reason, but your ‘Dear brother’, he takes and kills as he pleases-” “-You’re lying! GET OFF ME!!!” Hikireimaru shot up, backhanding the Half-demon roughly across the face, and stunning him to silence, as his free hand tortured that member once more. “He took you, didn’t he? Denial is a sad thing, Little one. Your brother is a murderer…” Inuyasha winced, body shuddering under the strain. His toes pawed at the ground uselessly as his hips tried to draw back away from Hikireimaru’s touch. The Demon’s other hand reached around to press against his lower back, so he could no longer escape. “He…He’s different now-” He was cut off again as Hikireimaru dived forwards to catch his lips, only managing to turn away at the last moment, that mouth crashing against his cheek. Smirking, Hikireimaru permitted his hot breath to steam over a nervous dog ear. “How incredibly wrong you are, Little Half-demon,” he murmured, before capturing the retreating ear between his fangs, biting down. Inuyasha screamed, his face twisting in agony as his voice ricocheted from the walls, and his claws scraped against the metal bonds in an attempt to alleviate the piercing pain on something. A crimson river flowed from the bite as the Dark-haired-demon drew back, watching the blood stain silver locks, and trickle down the boy’s face. But those furious, defiantly glassy eyes that watched him refused to cry. “I told you, pleasure can be gained from pain, should you look in the right place…” “You’re sick…” the Half-demon growled. “What you do, this isn’t making me choose you… Sesshomaru may be a bastard but he doesn’t… He never tortures people like this!” He winced again as Hikireimaru answered his words by squeezing him hard. He really needed to relieve himself… “Your Brother is a murderer. I have lingered in this time, on this plain and I have seen many things. Your brother wreaked bloody violence upon any half-demon that crossed his path after your father died. Or has no one ever told you?” He watched Inuyasha’s eyes widen. “Evidently those frivolous servants Takara and the others did not see fit to shatter the image of their beloved Lord, and tell you of Lord Sesshomaru’s selfish fit of rage…” It happened then, the pup offered him a final kick, and he felt his bladder groan under the pressure. A few feeble drops wept from the tip and he grated his fangs together, closing his eyes against the world as the humiliation burst from him like the inevitable tide that escaped him. He could have sworn he heard himself screaming obscenities to Hikireimaru, but he could not be sure, all he knew for sure was that those fingers remained on him as the pressure in his bladder spilt out into the suddenly very cold room. It kept coming, as if to prolong the suffering - urine running down his legs to pool at the floor. His head hung low. He didn’t move. Hikireimaru’s free hand hovered close to his face a moment before smacking him across the face. “Look at me…” he growled huskily, the disgusting degradation against the Half-demon’s body having evidently aroused him. But Inuyasha didn’t look up. “I said look at me!!!” The second blow freed him from his chains, causing his broken body to drop limply to the floor, and the Half-demon fell onto his hands and knees in his own urine. He kept his head down. He could feel that crimson gaze weighing upon him, could even feel him drop to his side. Hikireimaru knelt at his level, grasping a handful of silver hair with his soiled hand. He smirked as he ran his fingers through the blood and urine-stained tresses. He let the hair fall from his grasp to the damp floor below, noting that Inuyasha still didn’t move, and that the only sound from the boy were irregular breaths that ushered past those lips in laboured pants. When several moments passed and he still received no response, the Demon took hold of the Inuyasha'ss hair once more. “Now look,” he purred, stroking the still bleeding ear with his other hand, just to watch Inuyasha flinch. “Your hair is ruined…soaked with blood and your own waste, how degrading…” He leant forwards, pressing his lips to Inuyasha’s cheek, and the Half-demon again, did not respond, he wouldn’t give this revolting creature the satisfaction. “Is it not delicious being this sordid – this immoral, Inuyasha? You will come to crave it, just as I did, I assure you…” He regarded the Half-demon’s hair again when he still didn’t answer. “Such a mess though, it will never come clean…” Suddenly his hand free of Inuyasha’s hair dived forwards, seizing the boy around the throat and lifting his head up so that Inuyasha had to meet his eyes. Such pitiable defeat flickered in those eyes, and Hikireimaru relished it. “It will have to come off…” “NO!!!” Inuyasha’s eyes widened then, making a turn to shove the Demon away from him, his temper flaring back to life as did the light in his eyes. Those claws rose, descending upon him, slicing through stained silver locks at the base of his neck, and severing them from his head. Hikireimaru stood over him, relishing in his agony, allowing a silver flood of hair to tumble slowly from his grasp, dropping before Inuyasha’s very eyes. When Inuyasha saw his last shred of splendour cut away from him, fury burned in his chest, as if his boiling blood were lava. The white-hot rage tore through him and he scrambled to his feet, charging forwards,with claws dragging through the streams of his own blood. “BLADES OF BLOOD!!!” He screamed, fangs bared in a demonic smile as he watched his attack slice into Hikireimaru’s chest. He threw himself forwards, claws tearing through the Demon’s arm, a revolting satisfaction reaching him as he (at last) saw the beast flinch. Hikireimaru pulled back, supporting his wounded arm as he regarded the Half-demon with an odd smile. “My body does not know hurt. It has been instructed in ways you can not even imagine…” He shot towards him, capturing his wrists once more and binding them once more to the shackles he had only just released him from, so that Inuyasha had to listen to him instead of senselessly attacking in a blind rage. “Imagine if you will, a time five decades ago, where I was no more than a mediocre demon, content with the slaughter of many. Imagine finding that someone…your destined, your soul mate,” he murmured against his skin, circling around him continuously as he spoke, clawed fingers never abandoning the Half-demon’s stomach. “Imagine searching your whole life for a reason to live, and finding that reason was a pariah…a mark upon the demon world – a Half-demon.” Those words flooded his mind at that moment, eradicating all other thought. So this was it? Hikireimaru had loved a Half-demon? “Imagine, Lord Inuyasha… Imagine falling for them, despite everything – abandoning your family and everything you knew for that one person… Only to have them torn away.” He stopped circling him then, pausing before Inuyasha so that he was in no doubt of the anger in his eyes. “Your brother killed him!” Inuyasha’s eyes widened as Hikireimaru dropped to the bed momentarily, tearing a shred of material from the sheets and tying it around the Half-demon’s eyes as a make-shift blindfold. Inuyasha felt the panic rise up in him. His head tilted towards the sounds of Hikireimaru’s movements. Suddenly pain tore through his chest as four sharp blades (unmistakably Hikireimaru’s claws) raked down his front. He screamed. He felt the blood run down his already soiled body, the fresh pain stung as the cold air caressed it, just as a suspicious warmth encircled his length. Inuyasha’s boy tensed, suddenly very still, not willing to give any reason for this monster to damage that part of himself. The warmth drew back, and those digits smoothed up and down his limp organ. A fingertip pressed into the foreskin surprisingly gently, circling the tender head so that foreboding shudders shot through Inuyasha’s body. He had never realised how much trust was involved in this type of ‘play’, he didn’t want this creature anywhere near his limbs. Every touch threatened pain, though it never brought it, and he felt hot tears gathering in his eyes as his hormones took the driver’s seat to his emotions, sending an unmistakeable, trembling fear through his body. He gasped as Hikireimaru’s tongue pressed into the slit and fangs grazed the surrounding flesh with feather-light touches. The boy winced as he felt an unbearable heat flood to his nether-regions. Those claws returned, scratching spitefully into his stomach once more, just enough to draw blood, and Inuyasha screamed again, blood trailing down to meet Hikireimaru’s mouth where it was attempting to swallow his now throbbing erection. “S-Stop! The pup is…” he drew off, disgust and humiliation storming in his mind whilst a mixture of pain and unwanted pleasure shook his wounded body. He felt Hikireimaru smile around his erection, as he spilled unwilling pre-emission down the Demon’s throat. “Enjoying yourself at last, Little one…?” He trailed off when Inuyasha shook his head. The Demon descended to suck the boy’s sac roughly before wrapping some unnamed object that he was blind to (as well as everything else) around his pained erection in tight coils. He ground his teeth again when the pain of his prevented release built up, until the Demon rose, raking his claws up the boy’s back as he got to his feet. Inuyasha’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly in an attempt of an agonised cry, and Hikireimaru’s fingers clasped around his throat, choking the life from him. “Imagine spending years…centuries struggling to ride the waves of time and manipulate them, all in order to find him spirit again – in any body.” Inuyasha winced, struggling for air, feeling those claws biting into his flesh. He needed to get Hikireimaru off of him! “You can’t even begin to understand what it’s like, finally reaching the time when this spirit was alive again, only to find it impossible to reach.” Inuyasha struggled to gain breath. He didn’t understand. His senses were spiralling out of control from the lack of air, and mind still reeling from all this knowledge. Hikireimaru, he could travel through time? Just like…Kagome… Suddenly a hazy whiteness assaulted his vision. He knew this feeling. He felt the life being choked from him. He felt his demon taking over. His mouth opened in a soundless scream. His fangs stretched and crests crept across his blemished cheeks before his already obscured vision finally bled into red. A demonic snarl startled Hikireimaru just enough for him to loosen his hold on the now full-demon, and Inuyasha seized his chains, swinging back on them before flying forwards again, sending Hikireimaru hurtling across the room. Hikireimaru struggled to his feet, spitting the blood that had gathered in his mouth on the ground, before turning his eyes to Inuyasha once more, evidently confused as to what had happened. He watched the wildly thrashing body writhing like a fish on a hook, desperate to reach him in feral fury. Inuyasha was…a demon? “Master Hikireimaru?” The Dark-haired-demon turned, growling softly under his breath in irritation at seeing one of his followers framed in the doorway. “Trouble at the gates, Master.” Hikireimaru sneered, regaining his posture and approaching the doorway. “Wait here, Inuyasha,” he mocked, the snarling creature that seemed beyond all reason struggling to get free, like an animal caught in wire, with the chains biting into his wrists with each movement. “Do not go anywhere.” The door slammed shut, the bolt thrown across, and the demons' footsteps died away. The Demon fought against the blood and the ever-enclosing prison - the soul of Inuyasha despairing as he felt the passage of time draw forwards, each moment his entire body begging to be allowed down, and to shrivel up and die, if only to escape this pain. His stomach felt so heavy, and hot tears streaked down his cheeks shamefully at feeling the agony of his pup’s pain in his head. And those suspicious cramps, they still plagued his lower body, even through the pain of everything else. In his current condition, even his Demon was reduced to a sullen whelp. If his Demon was his base instincts, as a pregnant dog-demon, his job was to keep quiet, to shrink into the background if only to keep attention away from his vulnerable body. And so his Demon’s aggression faded, harsh panting breaths coming out as a misty fog in the now freezing room. Eyes could not see, and he felt nauseous. He felt bile creeping up his throat in the place of saliva, and strained to fight it back. Inuyasha’s rational thought lingered in the background of the mind of the once feral creature. He felt the blackness calling him, but he couldn’t let go. If it were any other time he would have fallen slack under the mercy of his bonds but…if he gave up his pup would suffer too, and he wouldn’t allow that. Even if he died, this pup would live it had to… His erection twitched, bloody, sore, and painful under the need for release (even if the arousal had been forced) whilst his legs ached, and wrists stung as the chains bit viciously into once unmarred skin. His Demon held no regard for pain, but his all-too aware mind did. This wasn’t how it worked; he wasn’t supposed to be this conscious of his demon’s actions. With so many repeated transformations they were becoming more and more unpredictable. Throughout the innumerable questions the pain assaulted his form, blood weeping from the fresh wounds. Pain, he’d tasted pain before, but never so much, never all over and never for as long as this… His body wasn’t healing properly. Even when he was asleep his body was working away to create and maintain the unborn life within his abused stomach, as well as offer his full-demon pup energy from his Half-demon body, which left so very little power left to heal even his own wounds. The source of the majority of his agony remained the tight coils wrapped around his genitals, forcing back his compulsory climax, which did little to ease the cramps that had yet to disappear. And he was left with this, alone, in pain, all-but wishing for death. Thankfully his demon had long-since abandoned wrenching his body to try and get free. But still, every movement caused the bindings to cut into him, his blood adding to the myriad of scents that only served to make him feel more queasy - the unbearable smell of his own urine and the hurt not helping his sickness any. He would die, he was sure, and once this pup was safe back with Sesshomaru he would beg to be relieved of this life, and this humiliation, of that he was also certain. SLAM! Suddenly the sounds of the door being flung open entered his ears, causing them to flick back nervously. A struggle, a body being thrown to the floor, and then footsteps halting not far from his side. Amongst the repulsive smells around him he could not decipher who it was, (he did not possess enough control over his body to do so) but he could feel someone approaching, and his body tensed painfully in apprehension of his Hikireimaru’s return.Please, he silently begged, his gaping mouth unable to do so thanks to his demon’s control of his body, please no more… “It is alright, Inuyasha…” Ears flickered again, though this time with hope, he recognised that voice… Or did he? He’d dealt with demons that could morph into the one he wanted to see before, was this another of those times? Clawed fingers brushed over his cheeks and the once Half-demon flinched. “Don’t…” He murmured, the husky coarseness that accompanied fully demonic blood taking over his words, “No more… I can’t take it…” There was no response, but those claws were still near his head, slicing through the blindfold, which fell uselessly from his eyes. The now crimson orbs blinked as they regained focus on the room, and demon tears brewed shamefully once more, as he saw who stood before him. “S-Sesshomaru…?” “It is alright, do not move, I will get you down-” “-No! It’s not – It’s a lie!” The full-demon Inuyasha screamed, his agonised body writhing, struggling to tear himself from his bonds to rip, to kill, to shred the Demon Lord to pieces. “Think,” The Silver-haired demon said, grazing his cheek lightly with the backs of his claws, “you can feel my emotions… you know it is me.” Inuyasha stared at him, rasping breath grating against his throat. He took a cautionary sniff, before shaking his head slightly so that what remained of his now shoulder-length hair tickled his mark slightly, and watched Sesshomaru shudder involuntarily. The demon in his eyes receded away slightly, though barely, the ‘real’ Inuyasha could still feel the disorientating hum of the creature lingering in the forefront of his mind, but at least he held the majority of control over his body again. Through his own unbearable agony there was Sesshomaru’s. The Lord's shock, fury, and relief overwhelming his weak half-demon body as those fingers (he now knew to be his mate’s) caressed the short silver hair that hung about his face haphazardly. “Sesshomaru, I-” “-Not now,” The Demon Lord hushed him, manoeuvring round him, with fangs grating angrily against each other as he studied his mate’s body. But time was running out, and while he did not think he would lose to anyone, it would take time to kill Hikireimaru, and time was against Inuyasha and his pup. They needed to get out. Sesshomaru tugged the chains slightly, causing the floor to become reachable for the Half-demon’s feet that had been previously suspended a few inches from the ground. Relief washed over the boy's lower limbs as his legs fumbled to find the floor. His toes gripped the ground as he felt the blood rush back through them, uncomfortable sensations coursing through him as a result, making his limbs trembling uselessly. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stand if he tried… “Is the pup alright?” Sesshomaru asked, reaching to touch his mate’s stomach, and staring at him in confusion when Inuyasha wrenched his body away as best he could with his arms still bound. “Don’t touch me…” “Is the pup alright?” The Demon Lord repeated, ignoring his brother’s outburst. The Half-demon still not in full control of his body, found himself nodding without really meaning to. “It’s alive…” His Demon murmured huskily, that foreboding crimson creeping back into his vision, and his skin tingling ominously in response, “its okay…” He felt Sesshomaru’s relief assault his mind, and cringed at his pathetic body and the way his ‘demon’ was so desperate to be in Sesshomaru’s embrace. “You are nearly free,” the Older Brother said, moving round to Inuyasha's front once more, as he sliced through the chains binding his arms, and Inuyasha struggled to steady himself on his numb legs. The effort failed, and he fell forwards into Sesshomaru's embrace. Gripping his mate's chest with numb fingers, he lifted his head weakly so that he could look at him. “H-Hurts…” He growled out through clenched teeth, free hand clasping his stomach with his demon side still struggling for dominance. Sesshomaru frowned, staring at his sibling, confused as to what to say. Slender fingers ran through short hair, the knowledge that it would grow back in a day or so not soothing his fury at its absence in any way. His gaze caught sight of the discarded soiled tresses on the floor behind them, and his lips unturned in a sneer. He would kill Hikireimaru, no; death was not punishment enough, a slow and bloody torture, that sounded more suitable… Sesshomaru’s hand slid down to the small of his brother’s back, pressing that form to him regardless of the crimson blood and other unwanted bodily fluids that now stained him as well. The demon Inuyasha emitted a low, rumbling growl as his eyes slid closed, “Safe…” he murmured before falling limp in Sesshomaru’s arms. * * * How dare the sun shine so brightly when everything felt so…dark? Inuyasha was curled against his chest like a child, as he carried him in his arms through the forest he remembered so clearly. The demon stripes had yet to dissipate, which meant neither had his transformation, and that was bad. He needed to change him back – for good. He couldn’t help but allow his gaze to flicker back to his brother, still bloodied and broken, his short hair unclean and clinging to his skin with the blood that soaked it. The only thing left preserving the shattered shards of Inuyasha's dignity was the Demon Lord’s kimono that he’d been wrapped in. Sesshomaru didn’t have time to clean him, not until he was Inuyasha again. Dirty was better than dead, and if he lost his brother to his all-too potent demonic side, that was basically what he would be – just a shell. That demon that looked upon him with crimson eyes, full of lust and obedience, so willing to please him, so honest… That Demon held the qualities every dominant mate desired, but if it wasn’t ‘Inuyasha’ – the one he’d come to know so well over the last few months, the one he woke up to every morning, the one he both argued and made-up with everyday…was it what he wanted? “Welcome, Sesshomaru.” The Demon Lord paused at that voice, staring impassively to the aged tree that still stood strongly before him – watching him with knowing eyes. “Bokusen-oh,” he acknowledged, bowing his head slightly, before continuing. “Forgive me for having no time to spare for formalities – this is Inuyasha.” He could see Bokusen-oh surveying the limp body carefully, slowly drawing his conclusions. “Tetsusaiga – the blade that keeps my brother’s blood in check, its sheath was carved from your bark.” “Indeed, though if you stand here with the desire that this fact will help your father’s youngest…” He trailed off, the tone in which the tree had referred to Inuyasha suggesting he knew full well of their more recent ‘brotherly’ bond. “You are mistaken. I did not go to Totosai for a reason… I need… I need to find a way to stop Inuyasha’s transformations.” “Tetsusaiga is-” “-Tetsusaiga can be taken away!” he said, his voice holding a little more urgency than he’d intended. “You told me that with repeated transformations Inuyasha would lose his soul. I do not know how many times remain until he can never change back – it cannot happen again. There has to be something done to stop this – once and for all.” Bokusen-oh let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Seems the heir finally understands his Sire’s deepest wish…” he murmured, though Sesshomaru remained indifferent to the words. “You are older than my father himself,” The Demon Lord stated, “you of all things on this earth would know what to do. Tell me.” There was a pause. Sesshomaru felt Inuyasha stir slightly, though the boy (thankfully) did not awaken. “You are not aware, I trust, of the main reason why Tenseiga was bequeathed to you?” Bokusen-oh asked. Sesshomaru smirked. “Because Inuyasha needed the Tetsusaiga, and I could not be trusted with the Sou’unga – that only left only one other sword to be my inheritabce. A sword that father intended for me to use at Inuyasha’s side.” Again, that low, rumbling laugh was his response, and it caused an unexpressed confusion to struggle to the surface of his tired face. “Did your father’s last words to you, offer no clue whatsoever?” The Demon Lord felt that confused frown meet his features, as he recalled those words: “Have you someone to protect?” A look of dawning graced his face. “The sword was meant to protect Inuyasha?” he asked. Bokusen-oh said nothing, but Sesshomaru already knew the answer. “But it can only revive the dead, there is nothing-” “-What is it in the Tetsusaiga that comes to Inuyasha’s aid every time he has need of it?” the Tree murmured with that rumbling voice. Sesshomaru raised a brow. “Father,” Sesshomaru replied. “Just as it is father’s blood that turns Inuyasha into a full-demon when his life is in danger, so is it father in Tetsusaiga that stops the transformation when his soul is endangered by his demon.” It sounded confusing – it was confusing, and he really didn’t have time for all this bewilderment right now. As if he had read his thoughts Bokusen-oh spoke once more. “Put Tenseiga’s blade to Inuyasha’s flesh and draw blood, that is all you need do.” This sentence, yet again, left Sesshomaru more than perplexed. “But Tenseiga cannot cut.” All fell silent again, and remained so, aside from the casual noises of the surrounding wilderness there was no sound. Bokusen-oh did not answer his words, merely watched him carefully, as he turned, walking towards the hot spring he could sense nearby. He would have to trust the old creature’s words, since his advice was all he had to go on… The younger brother’s body shuddered as it was laid down on the cool grass beside the steaming spring. Sesshomaru found himself all too grateful that it was enclosed by closely-knit trees, as he stood over his brother’s unconscious (demonic) body, the Tenseiga in hand. Golden eyes perused the blade pensively. It felt odd to be cautious of a blade that could not cut, but in either case, it never hurt to be careful, especially with his pregnant mate already low on the blood count. Lowering himself to his knees beside his brother, Sesshomaru supported the boy’s head in the crook of his arm, and taking the boy’s hand in his, he pressed the blade gently into the palm. So odd, to be so concerned over hurting his baby brother after being responsible for so many more fatal injuries (one of them including a gaping hole in his stomach). Nevertheless he paused, and with bated breath watched his brother’s still unresponsive face as he drew the blade swiftly across the skin. The bitter tang of fresh blood made his nose twitch. And Inuyasha didn’t move. He didn’t change back either. The Demon Lord took hold of the wounded hand again, staring at the shallow cut, and a frown creased his brow once more. There, the tiniest glimmer of a silver shard flickered with the light, before seeping into the wound, which promptly healed over as if it had never been. So strange given that none of the wounds inflicted by Hikireimaru had yet begun to heal. I suspect it has something to do with the sword I used to cut him with, Sesshomaru thought. Had this been his father’s plan since before they were born? He must have known Tetsusaiga would eventually prove to have flaws when it came to stopping Inuyasha’s transformations, so to give him (Sesshomaru) the only other hope… Was that not placing far too much trust in him? The Demon Lord set the sword down carefully once it was back in its sheath, his gaze still lingering over it. Perhaps his father had (as with most other things) foreseen the way guilt and affection would change his son’s perspective on his half-demon brother – most likely not that he would become his mate, but that he would come to care for him… He was sure his father had known he would once be in the position of looking after Inuyasha some day, there was no other explanation – who else would know to go to Bokusen-oh for the solution? And why else give him the sword which would save him? “Ahnnn…” The murmuring sigh drew Sesshomaru’s attention to his brother, who blinked dazedly up at him with bewildered, golden eyes. Inuyasha was back again. Sesshomaru smiled, such an ingenious idea, that with even that miniscule shard of his father’s sword in Inuyasha’s body, he would not lose control to his demon. “Inuyasha?” Sesshomaru asked, and the boy turned his head to his voice, hand clenching over his stomach. “H-Hikireimaru-” “-We are far away from there right now. You said so yourself, it is safe now.” The Demon Lord watched as his mate struggled to sit up, still holding his pained stomach. “Are you alright?” Inuyasha nodded, doubling over with the pain. Sesshomaru’s eyes widened. “It is not…your time has not arrived yet, has it?” Inuyasha scowled at his brother’s words. “Cramps is all…the pup’s wreaking vengeance on me…” He struggled, trying to break free of his brother’s embrace as he was steered carefully towards the hot spring’s waters. He did not especially feel like being touched at the moment, but the water called to his sore, filth-ridden body. Sesshomaru’s kimono (Inuyasha's only clothing currently) shuddered to the ground beside Tenseiga, Tokijin and the attire his older brother now stepped fluidly from. He felt that irritating blush ride over his cheeks despite himself. He supposed that flush that arose when faced with intimacy would never fully fade; no matter how many times he did it. His brother stepped down into the waters, and Inuyasha struggled to keep his eyes above the Demon’s waist-level as he lowered himself (with no little amount of difficulty) alongside him. A soft sigh drew past his lips as he rested his back against Sesshomaru’s chest. He tried not to cringe at the feel of those arms encircling him, flicking the water over his bloody torso. It didn’t matter that Hikireimaru hadn’t succeeded in raping him, or that his touch differed so from Sesshomaru’s, he still felt so unworthy…dirty. Tipping his head back to stare at the starry heavens, he could only hope that that would change once he’d finished bathing himself – or more accurately when Sesshomaru had. An oddly nice tingling greeted his still wounded flesh as the aches were soothed away, and though the water stung the cuts he at least knew he was clean again. As he felt those fingers smoothing over his skin, Inuyasha’s own sifted through still dirty, short silver hair. Perhaps Sesshomaru had sensed his pain at his hair’s absence, but the Demon's hands enclosed over his own, drawing them away from his ruined tresses, and the Demon Lord leant in so that his lips barely skimmed Inuyasha’s cheek. “It will grow back by tomorrow evening, Inuyasha.” He watched the Half-demon offer a feeble nod. Inuyasha knew this to be true, he had re-grown an entire tooth in a day – his hair would grow back quicker. But that didn’t help the fact that it was gone now. Briefly Sesshomaru flicked his tongue over the blood that had trickled down the side of his sibling’s face from his abused ear, and his mouth sealed the gashes buried beneath the crimson fluids there. Offering a soft, soothing hum, he allowed his fingers to ensnare Inuyasha’s chin, turning the boy’s face to him, so that he could capture the wounded ear gently between his lips. Inuyasha hissed at the stinging sensation as the Demon Lord’s tongue stole against his flesh, bathing the broken appendage until he felt the pain there cease. Slowly permitting his mouth to descend, Sesshomaru moved in to press them against Inuyasha’s lips, but the boy turned away. “Without meaning to state the obvious…I sense a great deal of pain emanating from you…” “Keh,” responded Inuyasha, “I wouldn’t trouble you with it-” “-Trouble me!” Sesshomaru demanded, making his brother jump slightly. “I only wish I had something…only wish you would ask something of me that would aid you in some way.” There was a long silence. Inuyasha lowered his eyes, attempting to pry himself from Sesshomaru’s arms, but his brother did not let go. “Don’t,” the Demon said simply. Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, finding it impossible not to see the extreme differences between his brother and that monster – they were nothing alike, and the knowledge that he’d ever contemplated the comparison made shame throb in his chest. Why was his brother so different now to when he’d been taken? Or had it been what he was about to tell him that night before he’d been caught? The pup offered him a harsh kick, and he smirked through the pain. He didn’t have it as bad as some. Kazuki, (who he hoped was back at the castle with the others) had suffered degrading, torturous and sick things for years – he (Inuyasha) had suffered it for a day or so, with the knowledge that there was someone coming to break him free of that hell eventually. Whether he realised it or not, his brother drew near him again, washing his hair with gentle insistence, and he didn’t pull away. Inuyasha seemed to forget simple things like food, (which he probably needed) he just didn’t have the energy to even be hungry. He found himself lying back in the grass, Sesshomaru’s mouth travelling his flesh and healing stubborn wounds. A dark flush dusted his cheeks in embarrassment as those lips sealed the gashes at his inner thigh, before moving upwards carefully. But no arousal reached him, those lips on him were as chaste as he had ever felt and his eyes glistened slightly at the feel of them. Dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks as his eyes closed and he felt the pull of sleep draw him in. The pain disappeared slowly, the only discomfort the usual soreness paired with the coolness of the evening, though the latter was soon remedied as he felt the warmth of his now almost fully clothed brother curved around his form, that fur wrapping around him the same as those arms. "Sesshomaru?" he murmured sleepily, eyes remaining closed. "Thanks for...coming to get me..." "Foolish Little Half-breed," The Demon Lord murmured against his skin, "You imagine I would leave you? You are my brother..." At this Inuyasha frowned, turning slightly to look into Sesshomaru's eyes. "What?" The Demon asked at his baby brother's confused look. "You just..." he blinked. "You've never... Why're you being so..." He growled softly at his inability to say what he wanted to. "It is obvious why," Sesshomaru murmured as Inuyasha's head rested back down again. "I was anxious for your safety..." The Half-demon's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you missed me," he murmured, but when Sesshomaru didn't say anything, that was answer enough. He flushed furiously. It seemed so very little had changed despite his ordeal, and yet everything had changed at the same time. A hot, breathy kiss against the nape of his neck was all he remembered, before he drifted into an uneasy sleep, troubled by images that he would not disclose to his brother come morning… To Be Continued...

Stiles frowned. “You’re sure you want to go today?” “Yes Stiles,” Derek answered, straightening his tie. “I’m going today, tomorrow and every day after until this trial is over.” “But you don’t have to,” Stiles chewed his bottom lip. “I mean the lawyers said you only have to be in court when you’re on the witness stand.” “I’ve made my decision,” Derek said firmly. “Why are you so worried? I’m not going to be in danger sitting in a courtroom.” “You don’t know that, anything could happen.” “Stiles.” “It’s just,” Stiles hesitated. “I’m worried about what being in the same room with Kate day after day is going to do to you. I mean you had nightmares after telling me about what happened between the two of you. How are you going to get through weeks of her staring straight at you?” Derek sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have to do this.” “I know you do,” Stiles said sitting down next to him. “Brave face of the company and all that.” “It’s more than that,” Derek shook his head. “I’ve spent way too long being afraid of her, I need to do this for myself.” Stiles put his hand on Derek’s knee. “I get it,” he said. “Anyway,” Derek continued. “You’re the one who doesn’t have to be there at all.” “As if I’m going to let you go alone,” Stiles scoffed. “Boyd will be there, Erica said she’s going to be there for most of it too, and Cora’s got some business to finish up in Brazil, then she’ll be flying in to see the rest of the case,” Derek countered. “Plus, won’t you be missing classes?” “None of my classes this semester have an attendance requirement, so I can afford to miss some as long as I stay on top of my course work,” Stiles told him. “If I hear that you’re falling behind I’m going to get the judge to ban you from the courtroom,” Derek warned. “Yeah, yeah,” Stiles laughed, standing up and offering a hand to Derek. “Come on big guy, you have a court case to win.” *** For Stiles the court proceedings were something he was familiar with. He had sat in on his fair share of court hearings when his dad had to give evidence. For a while, near the end of his high school education, Stiles had even toyed with the idea of becoming a lawyer. Derek, on the other hand, had little experience with criminal law proceedings. He wasn’t ignorant to the system, it was just over the years running the company the most he’d had to deal with was contract law or civil suits; even then he was on the outside looking in, always letting the companies lawyers deal with the details. This was the first time he was directly involved in a case. The trial was set to run for three weeks, however it was speculated that it would run overtime. Dozens of witnesses were scheduled to give their testimonies, witnesses from the bombing and the shooting. Mental health experts for both the prosecution and the defence were on the list; even though the defence was going for a not guilty plea and weren’t relying on an insanity defence, they apparently still wanted to have all their bases covered. Derek was also on the list of witnesses, and Kate was set to testify in her own defence; a bold move that had the media in a frenzy. The defence’s opening remarks left Derek’s stomach in knots, he was worried that they really could make the jury doubt Kate’s involvement in the attacks. Derek sat between Boyd and Stiles, staring ahead at the witness stand, refusing to look to the left at where Kate was sitting. Stiles was a grounding presence for Derek. Theoretically it should have been Boyd, his beta with a pack bond, helping keep him centred and focused, but it wasn’t. Stiles was the one keeping Derek calm enough to sit through the hell that was the court case. The experts and witnesses were working through Kate’s alleged crimes in chronological order. So it was only three days into the case that the ex-city coroner took the stand and started talking about the casualties from the bombing. Stiles instinctively moved closer to Derek when Derek’s lawyer showed the courtroom photos of the injuries the victims had suffered. Derek looked away when a photo of his mother’s body flashed up onto the screen.   Derek took the stand for the first time on the fifth day of the trial. He was scheduled to be called twice during the proceedings, once to give testimony on how Kate used him to learn about the security the Hale’s had before the bombing, then again to talk about what had happened when he was shot. The questions from the prosecution were easy enough for Derek. Carol, the District Attorney, got him to recount how he had met Kate and what had happened during their brief affair, what kinds of things Derek told Kate about his family, and the messages Kate had send Derek after the bombing had occurred. Derek focused on Stiles, Boyd, Erica, and Cora who had flown in for the remainder of the trial. He could feel Kate staring at him, and even in a packed court room he could still pick out her scent. However Derek managed to keep his cool, even when, on cross examination, the defence attorney tried to plant the seed in doubt in the jury’s mind by insinuating Derek was a jilted ex, only taking the stand to get revenge on an old lover. After several very long testimonies from expert witnesses, and a bomb scare that saw the courthouse evacuated and the case recessed for a day, Kate finally took in the stand to speak in her defence. Kate was wearing a well-tailored navy blue skirt and blazer paired with a cream silk blouse, an outfit obviously chosen to make her seem more likeable. She swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help her God, with a sweet smile. Being a witness for the defence the defence attorney got first shot at questioning Kate. The first half of Kate’s testimony was predictable; they established how Kate wasn’t involved with Chasse during the bombing or the shooting. They didn’t have to prove it, all they had to do was make it plausible enough, so that they jury wouldn’t be able to ignore the possibility that Kate didn’t have anything to do with the attacks. However, unexpectedly, the defence wasn’t satisfied with just that, because then they started to establish why Kate would never have tried to harm the Hale’s. “Kate, can you explain these letters sent to Mr. Hale that the prosecution claim are taunting and as good as a confession?” the attorney asked, mimicking Carol’s words from her opening statement. Kate nodded and took the printed copies of the letters her lawyer gave her. “I sent Derek letters to tell him I was sorry he had lost his family. I was scared to see him in person. With the media attention that surrounded him, I was scared that someone would find out about us and I would be charged with statutory rape,” Kate was free to talk about it now though, the statute of limitations had long since expired. “The letters weren’t meant to be taunting, they were meant to be comforting. I wanted Derek to know I was still thinking about him.” “Did you ever wish to harm Mr. Hale?” “No!” Kate shook her head. “Never. I loved him, I,” tears welled in Kate’s eyes. “I still love him,” Kate lept to her feet and the courtroom exploded into excited whispers. “Derek I still love you! I always have!” The judge banged his gavel and called for order. “I love you!” Kate called out through tears. “I’d never do anything to hurt you!” A half hour recess was called and the jury was instructed to disregard Ms. Argent’s outburst. Derek sat, staring straight ahead, in complete shock.